What Is Love?
by Roxie Archer
Summary: Marik knows he needs something precious but can he convince Bakura that that something is him? MarikxBakura and MalikxRyou Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! is the intellectual property of Kazuki Takahashi sorry, forgot to put it in the 1st chapter
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes**: HOLY. RA. It's been a long time since I posted anything. Betcha all thought I was dead. But...I LIVE!!

Anyway, a long long...long time ago, I got a request from one _Darksnickle-PrincessKezadoodle _asking for a MarikxBakura fic where _"they're not harsh and cruel to eachother but instead you can see that they are in love with each other" _and then it went on to (the reqest, i mean) ask for a Bakura uke fic with a vulnerable Bakura and I thought: Vulnerable and Bakura? In the same sentence?! But then I also thought, what a challange that would be, and hey, I can do anything, right? So, here we go.

Warnings: hmm, let's see, swearing and violence and sex and...no, that's probably it

**What Is Love?**

Part 1_: Get it Together_

Ryou was sitting next to Malik on the couch. His feet were tucked up on the cushion next to him, a mug of hot chocolate cupped in his hands. Malik said something that made Ryou smile and look away, shifting his vision downward. Malik turned fully to him, reaching out a hand to cradle the other's face gently; said something else, a soft whisper that faded the smile from Ryou's lips, the breath left caught in his throat, anxiety, as though something wondrous was about to happen. Malik kissed him. But even to watch them, Marik could tell, there was so much _more_ in that kiss; so much _feeling,_ as though a silent exchange passed between the two, understanding and acceptance, longing and warmth and a solemn oath from Malik. When they parted, Ryou curled into Malik's side, with his cup still in his hands but forgotten, and Malik held him there contentedly.

Marik stared down at them from the railing. Malik thought of Ryou constantly, talked of him constantly. Ryou was kind and sweet and beautiful. His cooking was amazing and he smelled nice. Marik guessed he tasted nice too, by the look on Malik's face. Malik had never been so happy as when he thought of Ryou and now … he looked like he needed nothing more to live happily the rest of his life. He looked as though he had never known hate.

Marik slipped out the back door. He was glad that Malik was happy but it made him feel somewhat out of place there, so he defected to the Bakura house instead. Unfortunately, he arrived just in time for aversion to Ishtar day – that is to say, Bakura got one look at him on his front step and slammed the door in his face.

Marik swung the door open anyway and followed him inside. "What's your problem?"

"I'm starving." Bakura complained.

"How is that _**my**_ fault?" Marik asked, gesturing wildly as he followed Bakura to the couch where the white haired thief fell back onto the cushions in a huff. Marik watched transfixed as the long strands of his hair rustled at the movement, resettling themselves on his shoulders until Bakura frowned, looking up at him strangely and breaking the spell.

"What?"

Marik blinked, refocusing his gaze and grinned. "Nothin'… I'll make ya food."

Bakura raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "_You_ can cook?"

"A little." Marik answered, heading into the kitchen.

"If I wanted something a _little_ edible I'da cooked it myself." Bakura complained from the couch but he made no move to stop the other.

Fifteen minutes later, Marik returned with two slightly burnt grilled cheese sandwiches and offered them to Bakura who wrinkled his nose in disgust but took them anyway.

"So I take it you're missing little Ryou." Marik asked with a knowing smile.

Bakura frowned. "I never said that."

"You know, I've been seeing a lot of him at our house these past few days." Marik continued. "He just sorta seems to bring the sunshine with him whenever he's around."

Bakura glared back at the grinning Egyptian. "And yet you always seem to end up here. If it's so fuckin' wonderful at your house then why don't you just stay there?"

Marik just continued to smile. It really irritated Bakura. "I like the company." was his simple answer and Bakura turned away uncomfortably, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Chyea, whatever."

"I think," Marik said to change the subject, "that you should get out more."

"What are you, my truant officer?"

"I think that would work backwards." Marik returned and continued quickly so as not to give Bakura the chance to butt in again and, as he was inevitably bound to do, turn him down, crashing his happy little mood in a fiery blaze if he could. "There's this little club. They'll let anyone in. I've been there before with Malik. We'll go there tonight, ok."

"What?" Bakura's eyes narrowed slightly but Marik plowed ahead in blissful ignorance.

"Wear something nice. I'll swing by around nine." Marik was already making his way to the door.

"I'm not going anywhere!" Bakura shouted, throwing his cheese sandwich down on the plate.

"You won't be sorry."

"I'M NOT GOING!" Bakura yelled to the tune of the front door slamming shut behind Marik.

"Marik! Shit! I gotta piss!" Malik was nearly begging now as he banged on the bathroom door.

Marik opened the door and Malik wasted no time rushing past him for the toilet. "Why can't you just use the bathroom downstairs?" Marik asked, returning to the mirror as he continued the intricate pattern of the band he was drawing on his arm in permanent marker.

"The downstairs toilet's still broke." Malik answered, finally relieved.

Marik caught a glance at his other in the mirror. "Well of course if you knock I'm gonna tell you I'm busy. Next time just come in."

Malik turned and growled through his reflection. "I _thought_ you were busy doing something _else_."

Marik chuckled. "Well, we can't all have someone as sweet as pretty little Ryou-chan to help us with our 'somethings else' like you have, now can we?" he asked sweetly and took amusement in the dark crimson blush that heated Malik's face behind him.

"That's not even…he doesn't!" Malik shouted back, flustered.

"Oh?" Marik replied, turning back to his arm to put on the finishing touches. "Well, maybe his yami does."

Malik arched an eyebrow and made a face, turning away altogether and flushing the toilet. "I don't even want to hear this."

Marik chuckled to himself as Malik left the room, too flustered to even stick around long enough to wash his hands there.

Ryou descended the stairs, leaving his homework unfinished, to answer the persisting knock at the front door and found Marik waiting there in black and dark red leather and fishnet.

"Is Kura ready?"

Ryou blinked back. "Is he supposed to be ready for something?"

Marik frowned and shoved past Ryou into the house. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a few yen and dropped them in Ryou's hand. "Here, go get a hot drink." And he closed the door, pushing Ryou outside in the process.

Ryou stared at his front door in his stocking feet, speechless.

Marik found Bakura lounging on the couch in the middle of a low budget horror movie and his frown deepened. Bakura pretended not to notice the other until Marik reached over and shut off the tv.

"HEY!" Bakura snapped, bolting up and glaring hotly at the intruder.

"I told you I'd be here at nine." Marik argued but Bakura's glare only intensified.

"You got a hearing problem shit-head? I said I wasn't going."

Marik narrowed dark violet eyes in a glare that had, on occasion, been known to cause traffic accidents and replied in a level, dead serious tone: "Go…or I'll molest you here."

Bakura chocked slightly on that and Marik dropped that line altogether, throwing out a completely different angle instead.

"You never get out of the house. You're not going anywhere, the world's not going to magically roll back to age of the dinosaurs, and you're not gonna stop being dead until you start to live."

It took Bakura about two milliseconds for Marik's words to sink in before he was on his feet in anger. "If I chose to live in the past that's my decision to make. It's my shit life! I'll do whatever the hell I goddamn please with it. And what right do you have to say I should live here? There is absolutely nothing here worth living for and the only thing I _do_ have is bringing the fucking _sunshine_ to _your_ house!"

All of Marik's witty comebacks left him in his shock. He just stood there while Bakura screamed at him and had no idea what to say when at last his tirade had ceased. He'd had no idea that Bakura had actually known what he was doing - or that he thought they were somehow stealing Ryou away from him.

"I didn't…" Marik tried, lamely but Bakura cut him off.

"Just leave me the fuck alone." All of the anger seemed to have drained from Bakura and he turned, crossing the room and heading up the staircase. "I don't need you…and you can't help me."

Marik barely heard the last of Bakura's words as he disappeared into the shadows of the second floor. And all Marik wanted…was to have never gone there at all.

Marik's heavy footsteps sounded in the upstairs hallway and came to a stop at a door which he unceremoniously pushed open. Malik, who was laying back on his bed listening to the stereo, removed his gaze from the ceiling to watch his yami cross the room and fall next to him on the mattress. Malik's gaze returned to the ceiling as he spoke casually, unmoving.

"That didn't last long."

Marik only grunted in reply and Malik turned to his side, tucking an arm beneath his head as he addressed the other.

"Wasn't Bakura interested?"

"He didn't even leave the house." Marik answered in a dead tone, staring at the ceiling.

"He's been like that since Ryou's started coming over so much." Malik explained. "I don't think he likes change but I'm not gonna lose sleep over Bakura's inadequacies. Ryou needs to be happy too. If he liked Ryou he should have said so while he had the chance."

Marik regarded his other more seriously. "You think he likes Ryou?"

"Who knows."

Bakura ignored the light knock at his bedroom door. It was easy to pretend he hadn't heard it over the roar of the stereo but Ryou opened the door and entered anyway. Bakura continued to ignore the intrusion until Ryou turned the volume down low enough that Bakura could hear his quiet voice.

"Bakura? What was that all about? With Marik, I mean."

"He felt the dire need to come _here_ to flaunt his stupidity. I guess his house wasn't good enough." Bakura muttered venomously.

Ryou nodded slowly, not quite getting it.

"He kind of looked like he was … going out somewhere." Ryou commented.

"Did he? I hadn't noticed." Bakura's off-handed reply confirmed Ryou's suspicions that something was definitely bothering his yami.

"Bakura," Ryou hesitated but Bakura made no remark so he continued "Malik and I are going out to a concert next weekend. I'd…like it if you came along, Marik too. It'd be nice for us all to get out and do something together, don't you think?"

"Your naivety is sickening." Bakura answered quietly. "If you're that determined to live in your happy, sugary little fairy tale world, then just go ahead but don't try to drag me in there with you. … Eventually it'll rain and you'll be booted back to the real world. Happiness is nothing but a detour that keeps you occupied for a while and if you honestly think he loves you that's worse. Love is nothing but an ideal."

Ryou fought back the urge to argue with him and sighed instead. "I don't pretend to absolutely _know_ that we'll be together for all of eternity. But I do know that I love Malik. It isn't an ideal. I'm feeling it now and I know it's real. And I love you too Bakura, weather you love me back or not. I know you're just trying to keep me from being hurt but that's not the way these things work." Ryou let the stereo fill the silence for a moment before he spoke again. "At least think about the concert." With that said, Ryou turned and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Bakura frowned. The last thing he wanted was to go to some public concert with hundreds of people to watch his hikari cuddling with that Ishtar and having a grand old time forgetting he was ever there in the first place.

Ryou would be gone soon, Bakura told himself, slipping in with Malik and leaving him behind with all the upsetting memories that were associated with him. Ryou would happily leave him alone. He wanted to be ready for it, so that it didn't surprise him when it happened. If he expected it, it wouldn't be so hard to take.

Marik raised his fist and brought it down on Bakura's door but after several prolonged minutes, it became apparent that no one was going to answer. Marik let himself in. At first he thought maybe Bakura was still asleep upstairs, it was early still, but his bedroom was empty; the entire house was empty, so Marik took a seat on the couch and decided to wait.

It occurred to Marik that he really had no idea where Bakura might have gone out to. He would have liked to know, but no, Bakura would never tell him. If he wanted to know anything about Bakura he would have to find out for himself. But that was alright. That was just fine. Anything worth having had to be earned, right? Not that he was delusional enough to think that he could actually _have_ Bakura, but on the other hand, he had nothing to lose.

Marik had admired Bakura from the moment he had first seen him but it wasn't until he had returned from the Shadow Realm after Battle City that he began to admire him for the finer things; the way his hair flew around his face when he moved suddenly, the way his eyes flashed in anger or turned away, looking inward in pain, the way his lips parted when he was uncertain or the way he carried himself with an air of dark power. Marik found that he noticed everything, and remembered every detail. Bakura was beautiful, like a deadly predator, silent and sulky until he was provoked and then he knew just what to say to cause the right amount of pain. Even in his anger, he struck with precision.

Marik wasn't going to say that he understood love, given his background, the circumstances of his creation, that would be blatantly presumptuous, but he was coming to realize that he did care for Bakura. And he found it strange that a being born solely of hatred and power could learn to feel such things while someone who had once been human seemed to know nothing of them.

Marik was pulled from his musings by the sound of the door opening and closing and he craned his neck to see over the back of the couch, watching as Bakura took off his shoes and turned to head toward the kitchen. Their eyes met, and for a moment Bakura's expression was blank, but it quickly melted to a frown.

"What are you doing in my house Ishtar?" he demanded, eyes growing hard as he spoke.

Marik turned back toward the television set, even though it was off, and gave it his attention instead. "Don't you just hate school?" he commented off-handedly. "It gets so boring when you're alone."

"Is there something wrong with the rest of your clan?" Bakura countered, continuing on his way to the kitchen. "I know you don't live alone in that house with Malik."

"Isis has work, and whenever Malik's not around, Rishid follows her." Marik watched as Bakura walked past him, carefully keeping his gaze on the doorway ahead of him. "Are you afraid of me?" he asked out of the blue and Bakura froze in his tracks.

The thief turned on his heel, giving Marik that view of flying silver-white hair he enjoyed so much and flashing dark brown eyes that seemed to bleed crimson when the light caught them just right. "What the hell kind of question is that?" he demanded harshly, defensively.

"You avoid me." Marik answered simply. "You go out of your way to repel me. I know it's not hatred. I _know_ hatred. So what is it then?"

Bakura smirked, then laughed. And the sound sent chills down Marik's spine. "What a nice delusion, to think the whole _fucking_ world revolves around you." The strike had venom in it, but Marik could take it. "Maybe I just don't enjoy your company." Bakura continued, smugly, completely yanking the control Marik had had on the situation only seconds before. "Maybe I think you're an annoying, narcissistic little joke who isn't worth my time, did you ever think of that?"

It was too much. The poison cut too deep, as it always did with Bakura.

And Marik smiled too, as he stood to face Bakura, but he could not look him in the eyes. "You may think I'm weak, but it takes strength to move on. At least _I_ walked out of _my_ cave; left the rotting carcasses where I dropped them. You carry all of yours with you. You kiss them every night and cling to the pain they offer to you like a lifeline. If anyone's a joke, it's you."

The fist that slammed into Marik's face knocked him back into the couch behind him and he looked up in shock, clutching at his cheek, to see Bakura looming over him, a dark and golden aura blazing around him. In his eyes was a truly horrifying miasma of anger and hatred that seized the heartbeat in Marik's chest. Without the Rod, his power was limited. He really stood no chance against Bakura's power.

"_**You have no right to pass judgment on me! No one does! Not even the Gods!" **_Bakura screamed, voice infused with the power behind his Item.Marik winced as he kicked the couch so hard it jolted, even with him on it. _**"You don't know anything! And I don't have to explain myself to you!"**_

Marik knew, he knew that Bakura's situation did not compare with his own. Despite the hatred he had kept and nursed after he'd killed his father, Malik's father, now because the matter had been settled he was able to move on. Bakura had never gotten that chance. And Marik understood the pain, understood that it was all that Bakura had to cling to, all that gave him life. He hadn't meant to say it.

"I didn't mean it." he answered, dropping his hand and surrendering. "You struck a nerve and I lashed out, just like you wanted me to… But I didn't mean it. I don't judge you."

Bakura screamed and kicked the couch again, and again the Egyptian winced as it jolted under him.

Marik let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling through tranquil violet eyes. "I wanted…to be close to you."

It was like a shockwave had coursed through Bakura. All of the raw power and emotions disappeared, leaving him empty in their wake, feeling naked and exposed and drained.

"Do you really see me as annoying?" Marik asked, his words sending slow, calm ripples across the suddenly still atmosphere. "I would settle for being a distraction at least. Aren't I anything at all to you?"

Bakura didn't answer. Instead, long after the words had settled and the silence had set in, he moved to the door, put his shoes on, and left, leaving Marik alone in the silence.

Marik really had no idea why, after going out of his way to get close to Bakura, he then somehow managed to find and accomplish every possible way of thoroughly fucking up. He had known that Bakura's words were nothing more than a defense mechanism to push him away but he had let the words affect him anyway. It seemed that no matter how much time passed, there would always be some small part of himself that not even he could control, the proof of his psychosis so-to-speak. One day he might even haul off and punch Bakura for no reason whatsoever and when that day came, he would remember this day and promptly forgive himself.

Marik touched at the bruise that was no-doubt coloring his cheek in dim rainbow colors and winced as he slammed the front door of the Ishtar's elegant two-story estate house shut behind him.

Isis, who happened to have been passing by with an armload of papers and books, paused to look at him. She hesitated but after a moment, spoke with a trace of concern lacing her words. "Marik?"

"What?" he asked, directly, but Isis would not be put off.

"What happened to your cheek?"

'Ryou's yami hit me.' Should he say that? Did it make him sound lame? Then, 'I allowed Bakura to hit me.' That was worse, it made him sound stupid.

"Got in a fight with Bakura."

Isis hesitated again, perhaps deciding weather or not to inquire as to what the fight had been about but in the end what she said was "Do you want some ice for it?"

"No."

Isis nodded and moved on. That was their relationship. She accepted him and she tried. It was all he could ask for and probably more than he deserved. But they would never be close, not in the way she was close to Malik.

And that was the basis for all of his relationships except for Malik. Marik neither knew, nor cared to know, the resurrected pharaoh or any of his friends. They were, to put it simply, of no interest to him. They would never look at him as a friend, they would never accept him as they had accepted his lighter half, there would always be that sense of wariness about them whenever they were in his presence. It annoyed him sometimes, but he couldn't really say that it bothered him because he just felt…indifferent.

But with Bakura, Marik had felt a connection and Bakura was the only person aside from Malik with whom he felt connected.

Existing, Marik had learned, was synonymous with desire. A being, by default of existence, desired and needed certain things to continue existing. That feeling of being connected to someone was one of those things that Marik had found he needed but Marik had also found that it was difficult to exist for only one person who in turn existed for another.

Marik had never blamed Malik for loving Ryou. Malik and Ryou, it seemed, could gain enough from merely being near he and Bakura to continue existing as a whole being. But Marik felt that, in some way, his separation from Malik had left him incomplete and the desire to become whole through Malik was rendered moot by Malik's love for Ryou. And he had thought that if he felt that way that Bakura might also feel that way and they might find solace in each other, that they might become whole through each other. But Bakura, it seemed, couldn't have cared less.

Maybe he was incapable of filling the hollow void within Bakura and Bakura certainly made him feel foolish for trying, but Ryou and Malik were taken with each other and in the end, he and Bakura were all each other had. The only chance of truly being able to live in this life they had been granted lay in each other, and Marik wanted to live. He had had enough of being and feeling dead to last an eternity; it was not a place he wished to return to. Ever.

But it wasn't just a case of necessity to Marik. It frustrated him that Bakura wouldn't even give him the time of day. Bakura meant something to him, what _exactly_, Marik was still working out but it hurt that the feeling was not returned. What would it take, Marik wondered, to get Bakura to look to him with softened eyes or to speak to him with an unguarded tone. What would he have to do to gain the thief's trust? Or was he only fooling himself to think that Bakura even knew _how _to trust or feel any of the things that Marik felt or desired. For that matter, Marik had no idea what it was that Bakura even desired. Perhaps _that_ was the place he had needed to start from at the beginning. That resolved, Marik lay back on Malik's double bed to wait for the other to return so that he could ask Malik to make a phone call for him.

Ryou had to admit that he was a little nervous as he made his way through the Ishtar estate to it's back lawn to meet, not with Malik, but with Marik after school. Malik had not told him why it was that Marik had asked to speak with him but not only had Malik nonchalantly left him on his own to attend this meeting, he had also left the premises entirely to run to the grocery store for pancake syrup, leaving Ryou completely alone with his yami in a show of complete faith that he faced absolutely no distress whatsoever.

Ryou wasn't so sure. It wasn't that he distrusted Marik, it was just that Ryou had had little opportunity to get to know the other and he was nervous. Marik had shown little interest in him even though he was seeing his 'other half' and Ryou worried that that was exactly why Marik wanted to speak with him now.

He should make a good impression, he thought, and hope that Marik did not ask him to back off. If that were the case, Ryou knew that he would defend his relationship with Malik, and hopefully defend it valiantly enough to impress Marik since Marik seemed like the kind to be impressed by a show of defiance, unlike Bakura who took it strictly as a personal challenge no matter the situation.

With as much resolve as he could possibly gather, Ryou slid open the back door and stepped out onto the patio, closing the door carefully behind him.

The scene that awaited Ryou was far from the one he had expected. On the patio table was a teapot and two cups surrounded by various confections and from the edge of the patio, Marik turned to face him, a downright nervous look on his face. Ryou began to wonder if he'd fallen down the rabbit hole.

Marik waved Ryou to the table by way of greeting and took the seat across from him as soon as he'd sat down.

Ryou stared at the cakes in front of him with subdued apprehension, waiting for Marik to say something. But Marik seemed to be doing the same thing until finally he startled Ryou when he said "Eat something."

That seemed to snap Ryou out of his daze and he snatched up a fork, looking down at the cake in front of him.

"They're for you." Marik continued. "Malik said that you liked sweets, so…" He waved a hand at the table invitingly. "Have as much as you like."

"Thank you." Ryou remembered to say, politely before taking a hesitant bite of the slice of strawberry cake sitting in front of him and couldn't help but smile at the taste.

"That's it." Marik said, almost to himself and Ryou looked up curiously. "Your smile," Marik explained "it's beautiful, just like Malik says." Ryou felt a faint blush color his cheeks as he refocused on the cake. "I want you to tell me … how to make Bakura smile like that."

But all trace of that smile left Ryou's face as he looked back at Marik, all of the pieces falling neatly into place to create a picture that Ryou was still not certain he understood. "Bakura?"

"What is his greatest desire, what does he need to survive, can you tell me that?"

Ryou could tell that Marik was serious but Marik's inquiry felt like a weight in his heart. Ryou had never imagined that anyone but himself might truly care for Bakura and the thought that the culmination of his years of experience with the ancient thief could not offer any help at all to the first person who asked, saddened him.

Ryou lay the fork on the small china plate with its slice of strawberry cake with the utmost care and heaved a sigh. A moment passed before he spoke. "I'm not sure you _can_ make him happy." The expression on Marik's face hurt more than Ryou thought it would. "Bakura is… People only understand the emotions that they've been shown. Bakura…understands contempt and mistrust and fear and hate, loneliness, desperation… When he's shown kindness he looks for … what that person might gain by their actions. It's all that makes sense to him. If he can't find an ulterior motive it just …upsets him…" Ryou tried to explain as best he could and he could see Marik muddling it over, sorting through the new information in his head and finally he spoke in reply.

"But I know that…Bakura is kind to you, isn't he?"

Ryou glanced down at the cake once more. "Because he knows my motive. … I'm afraid of being alone. That's why he's having such a hard time right now." Ryou explained, looking back at Marik. "He sees me with Malik and thinks that I'm replacing him. I've tried to make him see that isn't true but he doesn't understand. He's distancing himself from me." Ryou's eyes filled with tears suddenly and Marik felt bad for him, but he couldn't find any words to comfort Bakura's light and he had to wonder; if he couldn't even comfort Ryou, finding a heart that had never fully developed within Bakura might be nothing more than a foolish dream that was so far out of his league that uttering that intention might have sounded more like a terribly sad joke than anything else. But he was going to try, foolish or not, because Bakura was stuck in his head and Marik knew that he would always be there. He would have rather had Bakura haunting him with eyes full of desire than pain and anger.

"Take the cake home." Marik said, standing suddenly and drawing Ryou's attention with a start. "If Malik finds it he'll be up all night." Marik gave the other a rare smile that left Ryou in awe at the sudden proof of its existence and walked back into the house, leaving the door open behind him.

Marik knew then that his strategy had to change, so the next time that Marik invaded Bakura's house, he brought Malik with him. If Bakura refused to go to the party, he'd bring the party to Bakura.

Predictably, Bakura was not overly enthusiastic to see Marik, given how their previous encounter had ended but Marik mentioned nothing of the event and Bakura stayed. It was Marik's first victory, as far as he was concerned.

Marik, after some thought, had realized that when Malik had invited Ryou to his house, he had sought out Bakura and so he hoped that by reversing the situation, Bakura might be the one to seek him out.

At first, Ryou was too timid (or maybe wary was a better term) to show Malik affection in front of Bakura but after a time Malik won him over and Bakura, having been silently hostile the entire evening, declared that he was going to bed (at a ridiculous hour) just to get away from them without overly upsetting Ryou.

After they'd heard the door slam upstairs, Marik casually made his way up. It was only 9:00. He'd pegged Bakura for another hour at least … but apparently not. Marik had left the living room for the kitchen ten minutes ago hoping that Bakura might follow him in there but he'd been wrong about that too.

Marik quietly knocked on the door to Bakura's bedroom. There was silence for a long moment as Bakura made his decision and Marik hoped that he wasn't planning on ignoring him altogether. After so long, Marik couldn't take it anymore and let himself inside rather than calling through the door for permission.

"I don't recall inviting you into my room." were the cold words that greeted Marik as he closed the door behind him.

Marik gave the other a weak cynical smile. "Who do you think I am, little Yugi?" Bakura made no reply and Marik moved into the room a little. "Ryou is worried about you, you know." he said, hoping for neutral ground. Bakura remained silent so Marik continued. "He's beautiful, Ryou. I know what Malik sees in him." Later, Marik would realize the mistake of this statement; he had meant so much more than he'd said. "But he's nothing like you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bakura asked. He had meant it to be a demand but as Marik advanced, his level, depthless violet eyes holding him in place, it had somehow lost the harshness he had intended.

"You're beautiful too, Bakura." Marik reached out, touching Bakura's pale soft cheek with a gentleness he had never used to touch anything before.

Bakura felt that same shockwave course through him as when Marik had told him he had only wanted to be near him, only this time Marik was not staring off into space and he was not sitting on a couch in front of him; he was holding him in place and he was too close. Bakura felt the panic rise without warning. His heart raced in his chest, deafening him, he couldn't breathe.

"Get away from me. Stay away from me, don't touch me." he said, swatting the hand away and stepping back. He didn't notice the confused and hurt look on Marik's face. "Is that why you've been at my house lately?" he accused. "You think because my hikari is letting himself be led around by yours that you're entitled to me?! If that's what you want then go find a cheap whore!"

"_Bakura!_"

"No!" Bakura shouted back. "I get it now. I'm the only conquest worthy of your time, is that it? Well don't think just because you beat me once that you're better than me. And just because you claim to think I'm attractive doesn't mean I need your petty endorsements so badly that I'd be your delusional bitch for them."

"Damnit Bakura!" Marik lashed out, gripping the other by the arms and shaking him. "Do you have any idea what you're saying? There's more venom in it than a Ra-damned cobra! I never expected you to be a bitch or a slave!"

Bakura shoved Marik harshly and swung at him but this time Marik dodged. It was enough of a distraction for Bakura to vanish, using the shadows to disappear to Ra-knew-where and Marik sighed, alone again.

Bakura felt out of control and it was making him act like a child. He hated himself for it. Why did Marik have to act like this now? Marik was getting bored, looking for a new kind of conquest, Bakura could understand that, but it would never be him. He would never be overtaken by Marik again and he would never for a second allow himself to think that he actually _meant_ anything to Marik.

Marik may have wanted to bed him, but it was really far more meaningful…filled with deep intent…than that. Sex was an act of dominating another individual, in the most intimate way possible. From the top it was likely a good experience, one could take what they needed and walk away as a master, but from the bottom, sex equaled vulnerability - willing vulnerability - and Bakura considered himself far too smart and not nearly naive enough to do that. To bear your throat to a wolf is to ask it to tear your throat out. What Marik wanted was for him to fall and trust that he was standing there behind him but whenever anyone asked you to fall it was usually a good indication that they didn't intend to bother with you for long.

It all put Bakura in a foul mood and he felt the sudden need to prove that he was still a force to be reckoned with. Bakura was the King of Thieves. He did not bow to anyone. With that thought in mind, Bakura made his way determinedly to the worst part of town he could find, knowing that someone there was bound to try and piss him off.

Marik was not surprised that Bakura had run off. He'd just come on to him with no warning at all. Bakura probably hadn't even known that Marik thought of him like that until just now. He'd screwed up again. And the worst part was that he really had no idea _what_ had possessed him to do that. _Bakura, you're beautiful._ Why hadn't he fucking just asked him to marry him while he was at it. Marik felt like banging his head against the wall.

The way Bakura had looked at him… almost like he was afraid at first… Marik couldn't get it out of his head. He didn't understand. Distrustful, yes, but afraid? What was he afraid of? Ryou's words came back to him, and it was just as Ryou had said. Bakura had sought out an ulterior motive and when he'd tried to dissuade him of that revelation, he'd fled. How could he possibly convince Bakura that he was not seeking his trust only to betray him later?

Deciding that he was liable to start throwing things if he didn't get out of the house, Marik descended the stairs, told his hikari and Bakura's that he was leaving, and slammed the door shut behind him.

With no real direction, he just started walking. It didn't matter where he was going because he wasn't going to outrun all the thoughts swirling around in his head that had driven him out here in the first place.

Bakura was having trouble finding someone to pick a fight with. It seemed like whenever he looked at anyone sideways they turned and went the other way or huddled together in conversation…they avoided him like the plague. Whenever he wasn't particularly looking for trouble they crawled out of the woodwork and now that he was, they wanted nothing to do with him.

Bakura was just about fuming when the head man of a group of thugs passing by bumped shoulders with him. Had he been someone else, not milling around on purpose, he might have stumbled, or even been knocked to the ground, but as it was, Bakura turned around with one smooth step, a malicious grin splitting his face as the group turned back to him, their all too predictable line about watching where he was going hot on the leader's lips…until he saw Bakura's unexpected satisfaction and faltered. Instead, he said in a harsh voice, "I don't know what you're on buddy, but if you want trouble, you found it." The four other men with him started to spread out in anticipation for the coming fight. "You see this is _my_ turf, and when you're on my land you need to show respect."

"You shouldn't talk," Bakura advised "it makes you sound stupid."

The leader's face turned purple with rage and he shouted in a near-quaking voice, "Get him!"

The lackeys moved in, pulling out various weapons; a club that might have been lifted from an officer, a chain, a wire, and a knife. Bakura dodged the club and came up with a strong right hook that took out wire-guy as he was trying to sneak behind him.

The knife came next, the chain was coming Bakura noted, and he side stepped the lunge from knife-guy grabbing his wrist as he sailed by. It snapped with a sickening crack before he let go. He couldn't dodge the chain so he caught it around his arm, grinning back at the man on the other end and ignoring the pain from the impact.

"Take him out, no mercy!" the leader shouted, anticipating a win now that Bakura had been caught.

The man with the club pulled back for another swing, and Bakura grinned. He was next. Bakura waited until he'd advanced to where he wanted him and with all of his strength, he yanked the chain, sending the man on the other end crashing into the one holding the club. They wouldn't be down long though, so he discarded the chain quickly and turned to face them.

After what seemed like a long walk, Marik found himself in a dumpier part of town. There were sirens in the distance and music pounded from various boom-boxes along the street. He started to think about heading to the bar, or maybe just going home. It was a waste of time to just wander around with nothing to do but think about Bakura. What he really needed was something to take his mind off the whole thing for a while until he could think.

Noises somewhere nearby drew his attention. Someone was screaming. It sounded like they'd been wounded. Curiosity got the best of him and he jogged toward the noise to see what was going on.

"**That's enough!**"

Bakura turned from the two recovering lackeys to face the leader. He'd pulled out a gun. Bakura narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"I warned you you'd best have respect and now you're gonna pay." He cocked the gun.

He was going to shoot it, Bakura knew. He laughed; a dark, disturbing sound that shot straight to the man's spine causing a chill to raise the hairs on the back of his neck. "Do you honestly think that little toy can harm me?" he demanded to know in his amusement.

The leader was about to reply but his eyes flicked to the side slightly instead, to somewhere behind Bakura. Bakura's own eyes followed to see who it was that had interrupted their exchange, and widened in temporary shock at the figure that rounded the corner, taking notice of him almost immediately - Marik. The grin drained from Bakura's face.

"Bakura?"

"Friend of yours?"

Bakura's head whipped back in time to see the smirk on his opponent's face as he readjusted his aim slightly and pulled the trigger.

Bakura didn't have time to think. The Ring flared to life as he used its power to fade and reappear before Marik, shoving him away. But he was just a second too late. The impact from the bullet threw him off balance and he hit the ground hard.

Marik could only watch the scene unfold in shock. Bakura had shoved him aside, stumbled, hit the ground; he was bleeding, but Marik only got a second's glance at the blood draining from the back of his shoulder, staining his black t-shirt around the hole that the bullet had made before he had moved, turning back to face the man and his gun.

Another shot filled the air but before the bullet could even reach them it - and the gun behind it, and the man behind that - were swallowed by the darkness.

Tendrils of wisping shadow dissipated like smoke, leaving nothing where the man had stood only seconds before, and after that, the three remaining conscious men fled, crying out in terror as they left their comrade behind to save themselves.

It all happened so fast. Marik was still processing the fact that Bakura had saved him, fallen for him…and the serious, nearly frightened look in his eyes as the thief's hands made contact with his shoulders and shoved him back… Somehow, it all seemed so surreal to Marik, like he wasn't really sure it had actually happened.

Bakura groaned, clutching at his left shoulder as he lifted himself off the ground and Marik rushed to help but Bakura shoved him away.

"We have to get out of here." was all he said, and Marik nodded, taking note of the sirens nearing their location and all of the hidden eyes trained on them from behind objects and windows. The scene had been too public.

Side by side they took the back alleys and wove their way out of the area. They ran until Bakura slowed and stopped, leaning against the nearest brick wall for support. They were in an alley somewhere, they could no longer hear the sirens behind them.

"We should head back to your place." Marik said but Bakura shook his head firmly.

"Not yet."

In the silence Bakura tried to catch his breath, filling his lungs slowly and deeply to maintain control of the situation and Marik took the opportunity to speak.

"You saved me."

Bakura's glare hit him instantly. "Don't praise me for it. It was the stupidest thing I've ever done. _If I'd used my fucking head at all I wouldn't be in this mess!_ I could have just sent him to the Shadow Realm in the first place! I could have stolen his soul! So don't fucking pity me! It's my own goddamn fault I'm bleeding. **From stupidity!**"

"It meant something to me." Marik returned softly, approaching the other cautiously. Bakura was eyeing him warily. He looked disheveled, blood was seeping through his fingers, pressed tightly against the wound at the back of his shoulder, he looked back at him unsurely, waiting to see what Marik would do.

When Marik reached out a hand, laying it against Bakura's cheek, this time he didn't move, but met his eyes, waiting. And Marik leaned in, covering Bakura's lips with his own.

So many things he should have said: that he knew Bakura was not weak, he didn't need defending or protecting, he was a force of nature, a beautiful disaster, and he wasn't trying to insult or dominate or control him, he _loved _Bakura and everything about him. But at just that moment, Marik could find nothing more to say, nothing that he didn't press into Bakura's lips.

Bakura did not kiss him back, nor did he stop him and when Marik pulled away he seemed to be in deep thought until he ducked down and returned with a knife, which he held before Marik.

At first, Marik thought Bakura meant to use the knife on him, but Bakura was holding it out to him and Marik accepted the weapon slowly, confusion written on his face.

"Carve it out." Bakura said simply, turning his back to the other and reaching down with a grimace pull his shirt over his head.

Marik stared at Bakura's back with the knife in his hand, and for a moment everything froze. When he finally managed to speak, all that came out was a weak "What?"

"Hurry up and do it." Bakura urged, bracing himself against the wall in front of him, tensing for the pain.

Marik was finding it hard to breathe suddenly. The knife shook in his hand. He looked at Bakura's back and pain flared white-hot in his memory. He saw the markings appear before him in blood, carving into Bakura's back, and he couldn't take it. Marik shut his eyes against the images swimming in front of him.

"Isn't there another way?" he asked. His voice shook unintentionally. "The Ring? Why can't you just go back into the Ring and heal inside?"

Bakura turned back, in curiosity more than annoyance, and studied Marik for a moment before answering him, with far more patience than Marik had anticipated. "It's kind of like eating." Bakura explained. "Whatever goes in your body becomes a part of it… I could heal in the Ring but the bullet would still be there. And I want it out now." he added harshly. He left no room for argument. "Are you going to do it or not?"

Marik paused only a moment before nodding his head and Bakura turned back around.

Marik fought down images of Malik's father, of what he'd done to that man and urges of changing his answer to _no_ as he brought the knife to Bakura's shoulder. He'd been so uninhibited then, and now…he had to will his hand to stop quivering. To someone he despised, Marik felt he could still do those things, could still let lose with an utter and total lack of compassion and anything resembling sanity, but to Bakura…those thoughts arose a repulsion in him that turned his stomach sour; thoughts he could neither stop nor control.

Marik let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and bent his head, pressing his lips instead to Bakura's shoulder. He never wanted to let go of the way his heart and mind felt with Bakura inside of them, because without him, and without Malik, they were both empty.

"Forgive me." he whispered.

Bakura was caught off guard by the tender gesture but it was soon replaced with pain as Marik drove the tip of the knife's blade into the wound in his shoulder, and as he dropped his head and closed his eyes, concentrating on maintaining his silence, any thoughts that might have arisen concerning the action were driven from his mind.

Moments later Marik finally saw the accursed piece of metal rise to the surface and he pulled it out with his fingers, his hand fisting around it in sudden anger as he flung the thing as far from him as he could. He heard it clink to the ground several yards away.

Bakura relaxed slightly but did not move and Marik spontaneously wrapped his arms around the other's shoulders. Bakura flinched at the contact against the bleeding wound, the knife was still gripped tightly in Marik's hand and he was smearing blood. He didn't know what to do.

"I'm the same…as you." Marik said in the void between them. Marik hadn't changed. He was still capable of the atrocities he'd committed in the past. The only thing that had changed was that he had accepted life, and in doing so, he had clung to precious people. He had pulled them to him desperately to fill the void that had been created when his purpose had dissolved with his last life point into the darkness in that fateful duel against the pharaoh. Marik had no idea how to relay the thoughts that filled his head, they were so many, and they swirled and fought for dominance inside.

Bakura didn't know what to make of Marik. "What is it that you want from me?" he asked finally, exhausted. "What do you want me to do?" Bakura did not move from Marik's awkward embrace, but neither did he accept it. He felt Marik's face press into his hair and took it all in carefully.

There was a long moment of silence as Marik seemed to consider his answer. "Be alive… … with me."

The awkward silence that overtook them was broken abruptly by a low chuckle that slowly erupted into a laugh that startled Marik as Bakura's body shook against him with the strange, resigned and almost light sound. Bakura reached over his shoulder, dipping his fingers in the blood still draining from the open wound and turned, smearing it across Marik's cheek with an unbelievable, almost happy look in his eyes that Marik had never thought possible as he continued to laugh.

And without even knowing why, Marik too, laughed, the sound filling the alley they stood in and reverberating off of nearby trash cans and fire escapes, returning to his ears as a relieved, ironic sort of sound that made him happier than he had possibly ever been.

- To be continued.

**Post whatevers**: Well, there it is, the first part. Kind of long. Hopefully, I nailed the personalities as having evolved rather than seeming OOC. I have to admit I'm not used to working with this side of Bakura but admit it, even Bakura has insecurities, especially given his past.

And, as always, please review if you liked.

Ja!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! is the intellectual property of Kazuki Takahashi, and all song lyrics used are the property of their respected singers and/or songwriters

Author's Note: Part 2. Thanks to those who have reveiwed so far. I was kinda hoping for more reviews. Mew... But I'm so happy for the one's I did recieve. I kinda hope it's just that people didn't read this fic and not that the fandom itself is getting smaller...you know, in the wake of Death Note and Tsubasa and Bleach... I'm a devout KuroxFai shipper but I'm still obsessed with YGO too...

--

**What Is Love?**

Part 2: _Got it Memorized?_

_--_

"_What do you want me to do?" Bakura did not move from Marik's awkward embrace, but neither did he accept it. He felt Marik's face press into his hair and took it all in carefully._

_There was a long moment of silence as Marik seemed to consider his answer. "Be alive… … with me."_

_The awkward silence that overtook them was broken abruptly by a low chuckle that slowly erupted into a laugh that startled Marik as Bakura's body shook against him with the strange, resigned and almost light sound. Bakura reached over his shoulder, dipping his fingers in the blood still draining from the open wound and turned, smearing it across Marik's cheek with an unbelievable, almost happy look in his eyes that Marik had never thought possible as he continued to laugh. _

_And without even knowing why, Marik too, laughed, the sound filling the alley they stood in and reverberating off of nearby trash cans and fire escapes, returning to his ears as a relieved, ironic sort of sound that made him happier than he had possibly ever been._

--

As their laughter subsided, Bakura finally spoke. "You're so stupid. … You're insane."

"Look who's talking." Marik laughed. "You're the one smearing blood around."

Bakura shrugged. "You look good in red."

Marik raised an eyebrow.

"We can go back now." Bakura said seriously, pulling his shirt on with some difficulty.

Marik nodded mutely and they began the long walk back to Ryou's house.

After a few blocks, Marik asked; "Bakura…will you go with me to the club?"

"…Maybe." Bakura answered noncommittally.

"Tomorrow?"

"Maybe. … I don't have anything to wear. I'll have to pick up something. … … Why?"

Marik shrugged. "'Cause it's fun."

"I don't _dance_." Bakura warned.

Marik laughed. "Neither does anyone else."

Ryou and Malik both looked up from the couch and the movie they were watching when the door opened and Marik and Bakura walked in.

"Oh, Bakura, I didn't know you'd gone out." Ryou said, but then he noticed Bakura's step was off slightly. He looked worn and tired. Ryou stood instantly, worry etched into his features. "Bakura, did something happen? What's wrong?"

Bakura smiled at the other as he approached and the sincere, reassuring gesture only frightened Ryou more. As he passed Malik, the Egyptian gasped and Ryou worriedly glanced to him but Bakura distracted him as he stood before his hikari. Bakura removed the Ring from it's place around his neck and placed it on Ryou, laying a hand in his hair for a moment before he vanished into the Item.

Ryou panicked, turning to Marik, with wide, frightened eyes, gripping the Ring tightly in quivering hands. "Marik, what happened to him?"

Malik looked to his yami too, for an explanation and Marik grinned back at them in what he hoped was a reassuring way. "He'll be fine. He just got into a fight, that's all."

Malik had seen the bullet hole. He didn't say that getting shot in the back could hardly constitute as a fight. Ryou didn't argue the matter either, even though he knew Marik's explanation must have been a gross understatement for Bakura to have needed to return to the Ring to heal.

"Malik," Ryou said, turning to his boyfriend "can we… finish the movie some other time?"

Malik couldn't help but feel a little…forsaken. He'd just been discarded without a second thought for someone who treated Ryou like a particularly exhausting housemaid. But he nodded supportively, offering Ryou a small smile. "I'll call you in the morning." he said before turning to go.

"Take good care of him." Marik added, following Malik out and closing the door quietly behind him.

After a moment of silence, Ryou released the Ring with one hand to turn off the tv.

…

"When my mother and sister died," Ryou said, his voice quiet in the empty room "and my father drifted away, I wanted to disappear. I just wanted to dissolve into the shadows and never have existed at all. And when you were using me to fight Yugi … I wanted it sometimes then too. Sometimes I felt like I could do it if you would let me. But you wouldn't. And then when you left, I didn't know what to do with myself. I found out that that feeling was worse than being used. I felt like I was starting to disappear, just like I'd wanted to all those years, but I found out something else too…that that was never really what I wanted. So when you came back I was glad because you were the only person who had ever really understood … that I _needed_ to be used … because you were the anchor that kept me from disappearing and gave my life meaning. So please Bakura," Ryou pleaded and a tear fell to splash against the hard surface of the Sennin Ring "don't disappear. I've tried, I really have. But I have so little to offer you. I don't know how to make you happy - or even content, but maybe Marik can if you just give him a chance. Because I know that you don't really _want_ to disappear, even if you think that you do. No one ever _really_ wants to disappear, they just don't think that they can be happy, and they're tired of being sad. And I know that after 3000 years, you must be so _tired_ but please… at least give Marik a chance … give me a chance …"

Ryou cried in the empty house until he felt sick to his stomach and exhausted. Dragging himself to his feet, he went upstairs and went to bed, going through the motions numbly, and fell asleep wearing the Ring. Because he knew that without it, he would never be able to fall asleep in the overwhelming, deafening silence.

Malik fell onto his bed with a sigh and Marik followed for no particular reason.

Malik knew that he shouldn't feel so…jealous. Bakura was Ryou's yami, the other half of his soul - he had always known that; he had always known that that made Bakura closer to Ryou than he would ever be but it had never really … made him jealous before.

It wasn't like they had been doing anything important, so it was only natural that Ryou should drop everything in concern for his yami, it just…stung a little. Ryou could have asked him to stay until Bakura awoke, for company, or comfort.

Malik stopped to wonder what he might have done had Marik been injured. It would have been worse for Marik to have been injured, with no item and so little shadow powers left. If he had to have been hospitalized, Malik couldn't be there because, of course, only one of them legally existed.

He would appreciate Ryou's concern (because Ryou would inevitably be concerned). -The thought guiltily came to mind that he himself hadn't offered Ryou much concern for Bakura when he _knew_ Ryou would show him concern for Marik, that realization made him feel horrible.- But he supposed when Marik regained consciousness…

The whole train of thought finally pulled in at a station - it was just the difference between Ryou and him. Malik was a jealous person, so Ryou wouldn't want to flaunt his concern for Bakura whereas since Ryou would be concerned for Marik too, it wouldn't be awkward for anyone if it had been Marik. And also, Bakura didn't seem to like him too much now that he was dating Ryou so it would only upset Bakura to see him around when he awoke which would then upset Ryou whereas Marik probably wouldn't be upset, and if he was, Malik would just tell him off and slam the door on his way out - as long as Marik woke up, Malik wouldn't feel too bad punishing him for getting hurt in the first place.

All of the yamis and hikaris had their own unique relationships but they were all very close. And they were all drawn to each other. The Pharaoh and his hikari were probably the happiest lovers in recorded history, which Malik didn't understand because Yugi was _tiny_ and not half as good looking as him and also they were the pair that resembled each other the most.

"Marik," Malik asked suddenly, turning to his yami "why didn't we get together … like Yugi and the Pharaoh?"

"Because you fell in love with Ryou."

Malik's eyes widened in slight shock. "Is that the only reason?"

Marik shrugged, looking into the distance like he might say something but he never did.

"Do you _love_ me?" Malik asked, feeling a little dense that this was only coming up now.

Marik shrugged. "Sure." he answered plainly.

Malik didn't know what to say. Finally he settled on "_Why didn't you say something?_"

"You love Ryou." was Marik's simple answer. "Would you have not loved him otherwise?"

Malik hesitated. "No," he answered carefully "but I'm…"

"Then it doesn't matter." Marik cut him off. "Besides, I'm serious about Bakura. I can't get him out of my head. Bakura is … a _beautiful disaster_." he said, turning back to Malik with a grin. Marik fell back onto the bed, folding his arms beneath his head. "Honestly, I think it was just too easy for us; we could have slid together without any thought or emotion and we could have been content…lustful, but maybe not in love. You love Ryou because he's all you can think about and because you have to work for it, right?"

Malik lay back next to his yami, folding his own arms behind his head to stare at the ceiling in confusion. "I always thought I worked for it and thought about Ryou because I loved him."

Marik looked over and frowned in confusion, considering the possibility as Malik looked back at him.

Ryou had no memories of his past life. Ryou was the reincarnation of the goodness in the ancient thief who once had sold his soul to darkness. In essence, he was Touzokou's innocence, which had been abruptly slaughtered along with his family at the age of four.

Bakura, on the other hand, was the incarnation of the evil within Touzokou, locked away for millennia within the very item that the thief's entire village had been killed to create.

Ryou carried four scarce years of innocence and forgotten childish dreams but Bakura carried all of the anger, all of the hate, and therefore, all of the memories of the events that had caused those emotions.

Even though Ryou could never _feel_ the darkness of it all as Bakura had, he did understand, and he had never blamed Bakura for carrying those feelings - or for the way they had molded him. Ryou understood that those memories had once turned a boy like him into a dark and driven predator and that Bakura himself was the manifestation of that tragedy.

Ryou loved Bakura because Ryou carried hope for them both, understanding for them both, acceptance for them both, just as Bakura carried their malevolence and bitterness and mistrust. They each carried these emotions because the other couldn't bear them, but Ryou had found, the longer they had spent intertwined, that he too could feel those things and so he knew that Bakura must be capable of the feelings he once had never known. They were developing, evolving into gray where once only white and black had existed. And it gave Ryou hope.

When Bakura had returned to him, capable of manifesting flesh and blood, Ryou had suddenly missed the closeness that they had once shared; for Bakura was not always cruel to him, he had been protective at times and even gentile on occasion, usually cynical and harsh, but always there. And Ryou had watched him drift away into his own world, having little to do with him. It was painful. Ryou had always craved the contact that Bakura had denied him.

Ryou had been truthful when he'd told Bakura that he was afraid of being alone. Maybe it was his mother and sister's passing, his father's leaving, a vague, fleeting memory of being left completely alone after every person Touzokou had ever known had vanished from the earth in one night, or perhaps all of them together, but Ryou could not stand the thought of losing one more person close to him. He felt he would break if it happened one single time more.

The faint power surge triggered when the Sennin Ring activated against his chest, woke Ryou from a light sleep and he opened blurry eyes to find Bakura standing at the edge of the bed, watching over him in silence.

"B'kura," Ryou said, sleepily, reaching out for him with one hand. "I'm sorry."

Bakura shook his head slowly. "You always apologize for nothing."

Ryou took hold of his hand gently. He seemed to want comfort but Bakura was unsure. For a moment he just stood there.

'_Please don't disappear.'_

Bakura didn't understand.

'_Be alive…with me.'_

He didn't understand how he could be a comfort to anyone - why anyone would want to comfort him.

'_No one ever really wants to disappear … Give me a chance.'_

Bakura moved forward and Ryou scooted back as Bakura climbed in next to him. Ryou huddled against his other and Bakura awkwardly put an arm around him. Ryou melted into the embrace instantly and fell back to sleep. Ryou had always been like that. The smallest little thing could make him happy. Ryou had always said that it was the small things he cherished.

Bakura had thought that now that Ryou had Malik and didn't have to worry about being alone, that he wouldn't miss Bakura, but obviously he'd been wrong…

'_I love you too Bakura, weather you love me back or not.'_

Bakura's hold tightened slightly around Ryou. Ryou had always done things for him, and asked so little. Bakura wondered if maybe he didn't owe him a little. Maybe he would go with Marik to the club, see if he could figure the other yami out better.

Maybe, Bakura consented, maybe things were not so black and white as he had always treated them to be. Maybe the happiness that Ryou wanted could become real, and maybe it was time to admit that just because he did not understand an emotion that did not make it false.

Ryou breathed in deeply, enjoying the warmth of the sun at his back and the heat of the body embracing him…and then promptly chocked on the air, his eyes flying open to find Bakura's slumbering form inches from his face.

At first Ryou was merely startled, shocked even; he hadn't even remembered Bakura returning from the Ring. Then Ryou remembered that he had worn the Ring to bed and it made sense that Bakura would have materialized there. Perhaps he had been too exhausted to go elsewhere. With the situation finally explained to Ryou's satisfaction, he moved on to other, more important things to worry about.

"Bakura?" he whispered, and it was enough. Bakura was the lightest sleeper Ryou had ever seen.

Dark, blurred eyes opened, focusing slowly on the figure before him, taking it in carefully but Bakura made no reply, instead he waited for Ryou to speak. He realized that he was holding Ryou, and he dared not move, like the preverbal deer in the headlights.

"Are you alright? What happened?" Ryou kept his voice low due to their close proximity and Bakura let out a breath he'd been holding wondering if Ryou was going to inquire about their current situation. But Ryou always had thought of others before himself.

"I'm fine. It was nothing." Bakura answered, wanting to write it off quickly and move on.

Ryou jerked out of Bakura's embrace, sitting up and looking down at the other incredulously. "What do you mean _nothing_?!" he demanded. "You…you…smiled at me…" Ryou finished in a small voice. "You scared me."

Bakura's soft expression faded into a frown at the memory. "I went out looking for trouble and I found it, that's all."

"Bakura…"

"Some fucking ass shot me in the back."

Ryou's eyes shot wide and he pulled Bakura over roughly, yanking his shirt up to search for evidence of the wound. Bakura was a little surprised to say the least. After a moment Ryou found the bullet hole in Bakura's shirt. He touched at it gingerly, feeling the dried blood in the fabric.

"It's fine." Bakura repeated. "Marik dug it out for me and…it was nothing."

"Marik was there?" Ryou asked, moving away so Bakura could turn around.

"We sort of … ran into each other." Bakura admitted, turning around and setting up in the bed.

Ryou nodded in that specific way that said that he knew there was more to the story but he wasn't going to inquire further.

"We're going out to some…club tonight." Bakura continued.

Ryou really didn't know what to do with that information. Bakura was going _out_? With _Marik_? …_Willingly_?

"Oh. O…ok." Ryou wanted so badly to ask what on earth Marik had done to bring about this earth-shattering turn of events but forced himself to stay quiet. He wanted to be supportive, after all. "Well…if there's anything I can do to help…"

Bakura couldn't believe he was about to say this, but… "Actually," he hesitated, calculating possible negative outcomes of his request. Would it look as though he was giving in to Marik's request? Bakura decided that however it looked, he could always make up for it in attitude so he went ahead. "I…need something to wear and I…don't have anything. Not that I can't steal something myself," he hastened to add "I just don't want to look foolish…or cheap. I might need a second opinion." he concluded finally and Ryou stared back in awe. Had Bakura just asked for his help? He almost forgot to reply.

"Oh! Sure. I'd like that. Let's go after breakfast, ok?"

Bakura was glad that at least his injury seemed to be forgotten but he wondered briefly what he was getting himself into.

Marik stared at the ceiling with dull eyes. Dark circles beneath half-lidded violet betrayed a lack of sleep. In fact, he hadn't slept more than two minutes the entire night as the events of the previous day replayed themselves endlessly in his mind. The gunshot rang in his ears, Bakura fell before his eyes, over and over.

Bakura had done that for _him_, had protected _him_. With no time to think, Bakura had chosen to save his life. Marik didn't know how to feel about that.

On the one hand, it meant that after all of his efforts, despite what Bakura said, he did not despise him. He meant something to the thief. But on the other hand, it meant that Bakura had begun to trust him and Bakura's fragile trust was…too fragile to be trusted to him.

He _had_ wanted Bakura for his lover; he had pushed and pulled and prodded Bakura until the other had finally relented and now…Marik wondered if he hadn't promised Bakura something he couldn't himself give.

Marik had never done anything at all to warrant Bakura's trust, or to deserve him. He had only asked for him repeatedly and worn Bakura down. Wasn't that…deceitful in a way? Marik had never stopped to realize before, just how undeserving he was of Bakura.

But it was far too late now. Now he could only make up for the things he should have done right from the start. Bakura deserved something in return for his emotions and trust and Marik intended to prove himself now like he should have _before_ he'd asked Bakura to care about him.

Of course, the only thing he really had to offer Bakura was himself, so Marik figured he'd just start there and see what happened. After all, who could resist _Ishtar_?

Bakura could not _believe _he had brought this upon himself. This was the most degrading experience he had yet had to live through. And to make it all the worse, Ryou was _ecstatic. _

Ryou beamed as Bakura emerged from the small dressing room at the back of Hot Topic for the fifth time. He hated this store. Everything in it reminded him of Yami. He had tried to turn around and leave when he'd first gotten a look inside, but Ryou had insisted that this was the only store they could buy clothes fit for a night club in. Now he hated Ryou, Marik, _and _himself.

Since he had refused to wear black for fear of looking in the mirror and seeing the pharaoh standing there instead of himself, Ryou had flitted about the store, collecting every single article of white clothing he could find, and a few dark blue pieces.

Bakura found himself standing before Ryou in very restricting white leather pants, a white leather shirt with no sleeves, accented with midnight blue designs, silver armbands, blue and white gauntlets with chains hanging down from the wrists, and a dark blue chocker with a silver ankh on the front.

Ryou nodded like he was the foremost expert on such things and pointed back toward the fitting room. "Try on the other shirt without any blue … and try the smaller gloves." he instructed and Bakura cursed his entire existence altogether as he turned around and snapped the curtain shut with enough force to pull it away from the wall at the other end. Ryou grinned happily as he watched that end close much more carefully.

Moments later Bakura emerged for the sixth time. The shirt was pure white this time and the fingerless gloves were blue with the words LOVE and LESS on them in shiny silver. Bakura wasn't quite sure what the shirt was made out of, but it looked ok, he guessed. It tied up the front with hard black cord and looked better against the hem of the pants than the last one had.

Ryou squealed, startling Bakura and held up a finger for Bakura to wait while he raced off somewhere. Ryou returned with a coiling armband and took the solid one off of Bakura's left arm, replacing it with the other and taking the band off of his right arm altogether. "Perfect." he whispered and Bakura looked away, embarrassed.

"Are we done now?" Bakura asked and Ryou studied the outfit, complete with simple white goth-style shoes, and nodded.

"All done." he affirmed and Bakura turned back to the fitting room gratefully.

It was Saturday and not only were the crowds beginning to annoy the hell out of him, he sincerely wanted to be far, far away from this store before fate decided to screw him over and he ran into its best customer. Unfortunately, fate obviously put its pants on faster than Bakura did.

"Ryou?" he heard through the curtain.

"Yugi? Yami? Hi guys, how's it going?"

Bakura groaned. Sending the clothes he wanted to the shadow realm to be looked after by his Dark Necrophere and leaving the rest laying around for the staff to clean up, Bakura shoved the curtain aside, eager to get the hell out of there as fast as he possibly could.

Of course, fate had never liked Bakura.

"Bakura." Yami acknowledged, nodding his way. The two hikaris were talking happily nearby.

"Pharaoh."

Yami gave him a cynical smile. "You know, Bakura," he said with that smug tone he always seemed to address Bakura with now that they were no longer blatant enemies "it wouldn't hurt you to be civilized, or to at least _act_ like it once in a while. Don't project your stubborn denial to live in the modern world on everyone else who does. It's not healthy."

"You're right," Bakura consented, smiling that same smile back at the other. "mou hitori no Yugi, Yami no Yugi, koibito no _Yugi_, kage no _Yugi_…" Bakura took pleasure in the infuriated look Yami was giving him. "I don't think you have much room to insult me since the only thing that ties you to this modern world is your _little one _over there. Tell me _Yami_, with no social security card and no paper identity, just how are you going to live in this modern world when little Yugi graduates? Are you going to take over the Kame Game Shop, or just bask in modern little Yugi for the rest of your life?"

Ryou interrupted his small victory by blocking his view of Yami's furiously reddening face. "Come on, Bakura." he said, tugging at Bakura's shirt sleeve. "Time to go."

Bakura flashed Yami one final grin over his shoulder as he followed his hikari out of the shop, and chuckled to himself.

Ryou sighed deeply. "Bakura, what did you do with the clothes?"

"What do you think I did with the clothes?" Bakura returned with a slightly annoyed tone when he remembered the cost of those clothes. "Those pants cost more than your cable bill."

Ryou sighed again and said no more as they made their way out of the mall and headed home for lunch.

By the time Ryou and Bakura got home, there were nine messages on the answering machine. Curious, Ryou pressed the play button.

"Hello, you've reached the Bakura residence." his voice announced over the machine in a polite tone. "No one's home right now, please leave a message, thank you." The machine emitted a loud beep and the messages started running.

"Message 1. 9:45 AM." the machine-voice declared. "I hate these fucking things." "End of message." Ryou blinked back at the machine and Marik's voice drew Bakura in to stand next to Ryou to listen to the rest. "Message deleted." the machine stated when Ryou pressed the delete button.

"Message 2. 9:47 AM." "Hey, it's Marik. I just wanted to let Bakura know that I'll be in around nine to pick him up and we'll take the bus if he doesn't mind. … That's all, I guess." "Message deleted."

"Message 3. 10:32 AM." "Bakura, you're not getting cold feet are you? Because…" "Oh for Ra's sake, stop calling their fucking house." Malik's voice could be heard in the background. Quit making Ryou deal with your insanity." "Mind your own business." Marik snapped back. "Message deleted."

Ryou was beginning to dread the following messages.

"Message 4. 10:35 AM." "I'm not trying to piss you off or anything it's just that you never said you were actually going, all you said was 'maybe' and I'm not going to force you into it or anything but I would really…" "Marik, _let it go_!" Malik had obviously hung up the phone for him. "Message deleted."

"Message 5. 10:41 AM." "Hey. It's not easy getting through to this number." This time the voice was Ryou's father and Ryou gave it his full attention. "I've been trying to get through for the last hour. Seems you're pretty popular. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I'll be in town for a few days, in a few days, accompanying some artifacts we've unearthed recently that are being sent to the Domino Museum care of Isis Ishtar and, if you don't mind skipping school for a day we could spend a day together this week. I look forward to seeing you, Ryou. Until then."

Ryou paused. He wasn't sure how to feel about this. He generally enjoyed spending what little time with his father that they had, but now was a bad time. Of course, it couldn't be helped. His father was coming and there was nothing he could do about it one way or the other. And then the thought of explaining Malik to his father entered his thoughts to compound his worries and Ryou firmly decided to hold off all thought of anything pertaining to his father until at least tomorrow and passed over the delete button, pressing the 'next' button instead.

"Message 6. 11:15 AM." "Ryou, I was thinking, since Marik and Bakura are going out tonight… how is Bakura, by the way? He's ok, isn't he? I mean…never mind, I'll just call back." Ryou smiled. "Message deleted."

"Message 7. 11:27 AM." "Congratulations, you have been selected…" "Message deleted."

"Message 8. 11:43 AM." "Kura…you _are_ ok, right? Cause if you need more time to heal up, I can understand. Just give me a call when you get in." "_Marik! _If you don't quit calling them Bakura's going to think you're a damn stalker!" "Message deleted."

"Message 9. 11:55 AM." "Ryou, let's do something tomorrow, ok?" This time it was Yugi. Ryou could hear the dull roar of the mall behind him. "We'll spend the day forgetting we have darks." Ryou couldn't help but snicker as he pressed the delete button, catching a sidelong glance at Bakura's unimpressed frown. "Message deleted."

Ryou happily made his way to the kitchen to fix lunch and Bakura wandered off upstairs to contemplate the advantages of putting a new hole in the wall - with his head. No matter what he did lately, it seemed he had no idea _what_ he was doing.

No matter how Bakura looked at it, Marik picking him up made him feel like some pansy-ass girl going on a date. So he decided to call Marik and tell him just what he could do with his _date_ - he could just stick it where the sun don't shine - because Bakura was _not _playing that game. So he dialed up Marik's number and waited.

"You're not picking me up asshole." he said as soon as the phone was answered. He had to put his foot down right from the beginning.

"_Excuse me?_" Isis's highly offended voice answered and Bakura faltered.

"Put Marik on." he said, thoroughly embarrassed.

There was a long pause before Marik's voice was heard over the line. "Kura?"

"You're not picking me up." Bakura repeated as sternly as he could after the result of his last outburst. "I can get there by myself. I don't need you carting me around like some high school date fantasy delusion."

Another moment passed as Marik tried to decode what Bakura had said but failed. "But…you don't know where we're going." he finally answered, confused.

Bakura had overlooked that. "So give me the address."

"…Ok. … Hang on." Marik left the phone for a minute and returned, reading off the address for Bakura.

"Fine. I'll meet you there at nine thirty."

"Ok…"

Bakura hung up the phone, feeling somewhat satisfied with himself. He wasn't about to do everything on Marik's terms. With a resolute nod to no one in particular, Bakura went upstairs to start getting ready. It was already eight o'clock and he wanted to leave before he could successfully talk himself out of it.

Marik sat at the bar, keeping an eye on the crowd anxiously while he waited for Bakura, leaning back against the bar and taking another drink of the alcohol shimmering in the crystal glass in his hand.

_I hold on so nervously_

_To me and my drink_

_I wish it was coolin' me_

_But so far has not been good_

_It's been shitty and I feel awkward as I should_

_This club has got to be the most pretentious thing since I thought you and me_

He had to give them credit for actually playing _this_ song. It didn't exactly sound like something a club would want to play. _This club will hopefully be closed in three weeks, that would be cool with me… _

Suddenly, Marik caught a glimpse of white among the moving bodies heading his way and promptly forgot both the alcohol and the song as Bakura came into view, standing before him in tight, white leather and looking unnervingly lost.

As Marik stared, Bakura finally zeroed him out and approached, dark, dark crimson eyes locking onto his and holding him in place as Bakura gracefully maneuvered around the bodies in his way, wild white hair flowing behind him with every purposeful step.

Marik momentarily forgot to breathe but the breath caught up to him with Bakura, forming an inaudible gasp as his wide eyes raked over Bakura top to bottom and back appreciatively.

_Well I'm not paralyzed  
But I seem to be struck by you  
I want to make you move  
Because you're standing still  
If your body matches  
What your eyes can do  
You'll probably move right through  
Me on my way to you  
_

Marik suddenly found his voice and indicated the bar as he spoke. "Drink?"

Bakura frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly in the dim and strobe lighting but he took the seat next to Marik anyway. "What kind of place is this?" Bakura asked, looking back over his shoulder at the couples moving together on the dance floor; some were same-sex couples, some not.

Marik shrugged. "Like I said, they'll let in anybody."

Bakura returned his gaze to the bar. "Something strong and clear." he answered. "And only one." he added firmly, just so Marik would know that he did not intend to 'loosen up' too much, not that he couldn't hold alcohol, but Marik didn't need to know that.

Marik ordered the drink; Bakura figured he'd let him since he'd offered but he did not lose sight of his true goal for the night. He wanted to see for himself just what Marik wanted from him; just what he meant by _be alive with me_.

"That's not exactly your _look_." Marik commented when the drink arrived and Bakura swore to himself if Marik compared him to Yami he was going to kill him right then and there. "It looks good on you."

Bakura stole a glance at Marik. He was wearing black leather pants and a crimson sleeveless shirt that showed off his well-toned arms adorned with black leather straps. In his ears were a pair of silver ankhs instead of the usual golden earrings and on the ridges of his ears were a pair of earcuffs. Bakura didn't think he'd had his ears pierced there so they must have been clip-ons. And he was wearing some sort of scent…he smelled musky, sort of…heated…in a good way.

Marik grinned, having caught Bakura staring. "Like what you see?" he asked and Bakura frowned, turning away to take a rather large drink from his glass, steeling himself as the alcohol burned its way down his throat.

"Asshole."

Marik's grin only widened. "Come on, let's dance." And he grabbed Bakura's hand, barely giving the other time to set down his glass before he was yanked away from the bar and onto the dance floor.

"I told you I don't dance." Bakura protested but Marik paid no attention to his complaints.

"Come on, you're already here. Look around. I dare you to find someone whose actually dancing." Bakura did and noticed that most people were merely moving to whatever beat the music happened to be providing at the time, like a living heartbeat, solidifying the too-loud music around him; music so loud that it reverberated in his chest with each beat of the heart. "So let's just enjoy ourselves and…see what happens."

Bakura sighed.

_It seems so obvious_

_There's somethin' up with us_

_I swear I feel it from across the room_

Somehow, Marik had gotten behind Bakura, he supposed he'd let him back there, and now he was tentatively slipping his arms around Bakura's waist. Bakura decided not to stop him just yet; it wasn't so bad, really. It was Marik and he had the Ring besides, so Bakura let him do as he liked.

_So can I ask ya this_

_Not to be forward, miss_

_But I think I'd kill myself if I never knew_

Marik was pressed against his back and they were moving, ever so slightly to the beat of the music, though far slower than those around them.

_What do I have to do_

_To get inside of you_

_To get inside of you_

_Cause I love the way you move when I'm inside of you_

_When I'm inside of you_

The lyrics were beginning to make Bakura nervous. Marik was too close, his breath against Bakura's hair. He could feel it, casual and warm and that scent he was wearing was bothering him in the way it drew his attention when he didn't want it to.

"Don't be so stiff." Marik advised. "_Do something_. Enjoy yourself."

Bakura didn't know what to do. Marik was behind him for Ra's sake. What _could_ he do? Bakura put his hands over Marik's. It was comforting, in a way. He felt he could control Marik's hands somewhat that way.

_Do you think that this is right?_

_Or is it really wrong?_

_I know that this is what we've been wantin'_

Marik felt like he was on eggshells and if even a single one of them broke the entire world would shatter around him. It might even, Marik considered, if he managed to upset Bakura but Bakura was finally in his arms, Bakura was touching him, Bakura was drop-dead _beautiful_ and _that_ went at the top of his list of things not to say. But despite the eggshells or threat of possible impending doom, Marik was struggling keep his hands _on top _of Bakura's clothes.

_And all this burning in my soul_

_It fills up to my throat_

_It fills up till my heart is breakin'_

_If we had this night together_

_If we had a moment to ourselves_

_If we had this night together_

_Then we'd be unstoppable_

Marik's left hand slid free of Bakura's hand and down the front of Bakura's leg, slowly, sensually, and back to his torso applying just the right amount of pressure. Bakura watched it momentarily before his body would no longer comply with him and demanded that he _feel_ it instead. Bakura looked out at the crowd. No one seemed to notice them.

Marik leaned in, brushing aside Bakura's hair from his left shoulder. Bakura could hear and feel Marik's breath near his ear.

"Bakura."

The word sent shivers down Bakura's spine although he wasn't sure if it was the hot breath on his neck or the way Marik had said his name that had caused it.

"Enjoy yourself."

Bakura's breath hitched as the fevered lips descended to caress the bare skin between his collar and the neck of his shirt.

_It's a wicked world that we live in_

_It's cruel…and unforgivin'_

_It's a wicked world that we live in_

_It's cruel and unforgivin'_

Marik's left hand traveled down his arm to fondle the armband while his other grasped the cord tying his shirt together roughly. Bakura growled, a low rumbling in his throat that only caused Marik to bite down on his neck which in turn caused Bakura to arch his neck to the other side, the growl becoming a moan before he could stop it.

"_Do_ something Kura." Marik whispered huskily against his neck.

_I wanna love you but I better not touch_

_I wanna hold you but my senses tell me to stop_

_I wanna kiss you but I want it too much_

_I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison_

_You're poison running through my veins _

_You're poison _

_I don't wanna break these chains_

And do something Bakura did. He tore free of Marik's grasp, whirling in his embrace and crashing his lips to Marik's startled, open mouth. His fingers buried themselves in Marik's hair none too gently, holding him in place mercilessly. It might have been the beat of the music, pounding against Bakura's ribcage, or Marik's scent invading his senses, but whatever had caused it, Bakura had finally moved. And for reasons he could not fathom, Bakura had never felt more _alive_.

Whatever Marik had been hoping for, this was far beyond it. He was almost too shocked to react, but Bakura's tongue in his mouth yanked him out of it right quick. Marik threw what little restraint he had left out the window and kissed Bakura back eagerly as the lights danced around them.

"Fuck Bakura." Marik breathed when they parted for air.

Bakura was too busy catching his breath to answer. His brain was just now catching up to his body and the weight of what he'd done hit him like a ton of bricks. Anger flashed in his eyes, at himself and the situation … and Marik. And he turned on the other like lightening. "How the fuck to you make me do those things?!"

When Marik didn't answer, Bakura turned, hair flying out at the sudden movement, and made to leave, right then and there, before anything else happened. But he only got a few steps before Marik caught his wrist, forcing him to turn back and address the other.

_Why do you put up a fight with your feelings?_

_Girl we've been friends now for far too long_

_I know some part of you thinks that I'm scheming_

_But there's no way I could do you wrong_

_I said love was sayin' it ain't that_

_Then you turn around and come back_

_I can tell the way that you act that you want this_

_Don't you fight it girl it's only natural_

_Can 't disguise what 's in your eyes they say too much_

_Don't deny that when we touch it's physical_

_Let it be, you and me_

_Don't' fight baby_

Bakura's eyes demanded an explanation but as deeply as Marik dug for some profound explanation or excuse, he could only say one thing.

"I love you."

Bakura was struck by the pleading honesty in Marik's eyes and tone and he couldn't fight it.

"_Why?_" he shouted desperately. He had to know. Marik _had _to explain it. I didn't make sense.

"I don't know."

Bakura blanched. That wasn't good enough. **What did he mean by **_**I don't know**_**?!**

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. But I don't know why. It's your hair, and your eyes and your goddamned fucking pride and the way you walk and kiss and … and I'm not good at explaining it!" Marik shouted back as he scrambled for some answer to Bakura's insecurity. "I want to _show_ you Bakura! For the rest of our whole fucking existences!"

Marik felt Bakura slack in his resistance, and finally give up altogether. Marik released his grip and they stood face to face. "I'm not _worth_ it." Bakura tried to explain. "I'm not worth anything." He was just a thief. At the height of his existence, he'd had pride and power and a reputation but now, now all he had was power in a world where power could be bought with slips of paper. He didn't even have a proper _life_.

"You are to me."

Bakura let Marik wrap his arms around him, hold him, and gave up.

Bakura was gone most of the day on Sunday, effectively avoiding Marik until he and Malik showed up late in the evening with the intention of spending some quality time together before Ryou's father arrived on Tuesday.

Bakura glared, grumbled, and dragged his feet but when Marik pulled him against himself in a comfortable position at one end of the couch, he didn't do anything to stop it. Malik and Ryou took up the other end, stealing discrete glances of disbelief their way but saying nothing.

Bakura tried to remain alert and guarded but after a while Marik's warmth seemed to draw him into the other and he relaxed a little as he melted into the embrace. Marik brushed his hair aside and gently massaged the tense, hard muscles of his shoulders and the back of his neck.

Marik offered no explanation, remaining silent so as not to interrupt the movie and Bakura really did not want to draw the attention of their hikaris who were giving it - rather than their darks at the opposite end of the couch - their concentration currently, so Bakura held back his protests.

Marik's hands were rough but Bakura could feel the motions actually easing the tension. The jury was still out on weather or not that was a good thing, but it made him feel good just the same. Bakura closed his eyes blissfully. In the back of his head, he knew Ryou would scream if Marik tried anything.

He hardly noticed when the ministrations ceased but when Marik tilted his chin upwards, Bakura regretfully cracked his eyes open. Marik's lips descended onto his own, kissing him at an angle with slow, drawn-out motions that somehow gave Bakura the same sensation that Marik's embrace and his hands had.

The fingers of Marik's hand laced with his own, drawing Bakura's attention to the unfamiliar touch. For a moment, he just stared at their hands; such a contrast in color. He no longer looked as though he'd ever set foot in Egypt, but in Marik, the desert blood ran strong and heated and pure.

_I'm the same…as you._

Those words drifted across Bakura's memory. And in a way, Marik was right, they both were…different - extremities of human nature - he himself, the product of one soul's darkness, chilled and hardened over time, attempting as man always has to control the uncontrollable, while Marik was raw and wild, the incarnation of sins and ancient long-forgotten deities that governed such basic things as the very sun and the passion that boiled in one's blood at the sight of their true mate.

Maybe Marik was a little domestic now, whipped by his utter and total defeat and desiring to cling to Malik who clung to modernity, but Bakura suddenly got the feeling that he was holding back the urges that once had governed his behavior…for his own benefit, to give him a sense of security for the sake of being near to him.

Suddenly, Bakura wanted to ask him if he was worth it. What would he say, knowing that Bakura knew he held himself back? But for the same reason that Bakura did not protest being caressed, he did not speak.

Marik was so … unnervingly gentle with him. Bakura wanted to return the gesture but did not know how. He really felt…content leaning into Marik's casual warmth, so freely given. He wanted to ask Marik what he would do if Bakura told him he cared for him in return but never intended to hand over his body - ever. Would Marik walk out and find someone who would, or would he actually stay and accept Bakura anyway?

Marik moved their arms to rest across Bakura's abdomen, the movement startling Bakura from his thoughts and he looked back to find Marik playing with strands of his hair. Bakura sighed. Trying to figure out Marik Ishtar gave him headaches and he was tempted to just accept the face that Marik presented to him as fact. He _wanted_ to, and that was the only thing holding him back.

Screams of fear are different from screams of death. But both were imprinted forever in Bakura's conscious, burned into his very creation as haunting memories that had long been the fuel of hatred and anger.

In life, Bakura - a petty mortal child traumatized by the events - had recalled the dreams nightly; nightmares that came over and over until eventually he was desensitized. He knew they were dreams, he knew he could not escape them, he knew he could not stop the screams or the flowing rivers of blood or the men who caused them. In life, Bakura had known nothing but those nightmares, they had governed his every action.

In death, the nightmares had retreated only because he had become the nightmare. He still remembered, he would never forget, but no longer did the thoughts frighten him. He had accepted them. Fear was an emotion, like so many others, that death and soul separation had made him devoid of.

He had whole-heartedly believed that; that he could never feel fear again - or attachment - or… love. But Bakura had saved Ryou from Yami's attack, he had saved Marik too, and he could no longer write those acts off as acts of necessity as he had originally tried to with Ryou. He had not protected them out of necessity, he had protected them because he cared.

And like attachment, Bakura had found he could also feel _fear_; for he had protected them out of fear. He had felt it keenly when he'd looked back to find Marik unaware in the path of the gunman's bullet. Like a cold dagger, it had stabbed him and spurred him into action. He had not made a wiser choice of action…because he had acted on fear. That knowledge had rooted itself deep into his psyche as a harsh reminder of why he had willingly surrendered to the darkness in the first place. Emotions were a weakness.

But Bakura was beginning to realize that emotions were ultimately something that could not be controlled. Try as he might, he could not stop himself from feeling the warmth that Marik presented him with, the understanding and patience that Ryou offered … and the fear that like everything else in his existence, they might be taken from him.

"_**Bakura!**_"

Bakura knew it was the dream. It didn't matter that it hadn't come to him since his living days, he _knew_, like he had been having it every night of his prolonged existence. The bodies, dead and breathing, were strewn across the stone floor of the underground chamber, the wavering glow of the fires stoking their torturous death threw wavering shadows wildly about the room, previewing their ghostly forms before they were made.

But it was not the bodies to which his attention was drawn, nor to the sacrifices lined up, screaming and weeping as they watched their own fates played out gruesomely before them.

It was Ryou crying out his name, in a desperate plea for salvation that drew his attention to the men tearing off his clothes recklessly as they dragged him, struggling in vain, ever closer toward the melting pot.

Ryou's eyes met his across the room as he cried and begged him to move but Bakura was frozen in place. He could not move now any more than he could have moved as a helpless child. He felt as though some gravitational pull were holding him in place, forcing him to watch without the ability to act.

"_**Kura!**_"

Bakura watched helplessly as Marik appeared from the crowd, crashing into Ryou's oppressors only to fall to the floor with his light. Marik looked back at him, intense violet widening impossibly large with the scream that tore from his throat as the head of a spear emerged from his chest. Bakura looked on, paralyzed, as the eyes dimmed but refused to break their hold on him.

"Bakura…"

Bakura screamed.

He screamed so loud that his lungs burned and his throat protested harshly to the sudden, unexpected abuse. The sound was all he could hear as he shot up in bed, grabbed his own head and screamed, his eyes not seeing anything that lay before him, only the all-too-vivid nightmare and those betrayed violet eyes.

Ryou burst into the room in a panic, flicking on the light switch, flooding the room in sudden light and raced to the bedside to quiet the horrific sound that had woke him from a sound sleep and carried on uncontrollably.

Bakura was clutching his head, digging painfully into the scalp, his short nails leaving crimson crescent marks that oozed blood around his fingers, but it was obvious that Bakura could no more feel that pain than see the light, or himself, in the room.

"Bakura! _Bakura!_" Ryou pulled at the hands, attempting to dislodge them from Bakura's head as he called his name over and over in an attempt to snap him out of the nightmare he seemed to be caught in. When that didn't work, Ryou lay his hands on either side of Bakura's face and spoke softly instead, wincing at the incredible decibel of Bakura's screaming. "_Bakura, snap out of it_. Bakura, I'm here. It's ok. It was just a dream. _Bakura_."

Ryou repeated himself over and over until Bakura's chest heaved with the strain of his screaming and the sound died in his throat. Only then did he seem to take notice of Ryou and immediately, his arms lashed out to engulf the other in a crushing embrace.

Ryou was startled by the sudden movement but he made no attempt to pull free.

"Ryou." Bakura's voice cracked painfully as he held on to Ryou desperately. "I'm sorry." he chocked out. "I'm sorry. Sorry."

Ryou returned the embrace and allowed Bakura to use him for a living pillow as he whispered gently. "There's nothing to be sorry for. I'm fine. It was just a dream. It's not real."

Bakura clung to him as his heart slowed and his breathing returned to near normal. Ryou hesitated, but asked anyway. "Was it about…Kul Elna?"

Bakura tensed and loosed his grip. "I couldn't stop them." he whispered, his voice rough and strained. "They took you away. They killed you…and Marik…and I couldn't stop them. I wanted to." he added desperately. "But I couldn't move. I am fated to lose everything I want to keep." he added in a dead tone as he released his hold on Ryou.

"The whole world doesn't revolve around you Bakura." Ryou replied, a little too coldly, drawing Bakura's full attention with the change in attitude. "If I die, that's not some kind of 'screw _you_' sign from the universe. Weather you care about me or not does not solely determine my fate. Or Marik's. It's hard to accept that some things are beyond our control but that _doesn't make them fate_."

Ryou's words were like a cold, wet, slap in the face. Bakura looked back at him speechlessly as they sunk in, overriding his doubt and fear with their harsh candor.

"I have absolutely no doubt," Ryou continued in that same level tone "that if I ever find my life in danger that you will do everything in your power and then some to defend me and teach whoever was stupid enough to trespass against you a harsh and very short-lived lesson. I know that nothing and no one could stop you."

Bakura's eyes narrowed slightly as Ryou's doubtless certainty fully restored his senses and nodded once. "You're right." he said, his voice returned to it's proper depth. "I've been letting emotions make me afraid but nothing's changed. We're the same." he added, reaffirming Marik's statement from the alley. "You're damn straight no one could get away with that shit in front of me. I'd fucking chew on their liver."

That was an image Ryou didn't need.

"I'm going to tell Marik to quit holding back. I'm going to tell him I'm fucking _alive now!_" Bakura laughed that dark laugh of his that often accompanied statements that only seemed to make sense in his own head. Ryou had no idea where he'd pulled the energy for it after screaming his throat raw only moments before but it sent off all the proper chills and uneasiness of Bakura's own unique brand of normalcy so Ryou was glad.

He had a good hunch that life was about to get a lot more interesting…and just in time for his father's visit too. Ryou was just ecstatic.

To be continued.

--

Post whatevers: Let's see, the songs used were... Paralyzer by Finger Eleven (my theme song for this fic), Inside of You by Hoobastank, Unstopable by The Calling, Diamonds and Guns by Transplants, Poison by Groove Coverage, Don't Fight It Baby by 5IVE, i think that's it...that's it, right?

Anyway, I'll be posting chapters 3 and 4 together since they really run together anyway and ch 4 is only just the ending

As always, please review if you liked it. Ja!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! is the intellectual property of Kazuki Takahashi

Author's Note: This site makes me so mad sometimes. After I uploaded the last chapter I noticed that they'd completely removed all my page breaks. I can't believe no one commented on that. Anyway, as for this chapter, I just have to say: **WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! **This is the chapter with the sex scene. If you don't want to read it, you can just read until Ryou and Malik leave for the concert and skip onto the next chapter which I am posting along with this one like I said. I can't believe this is so loooong!

* * *

**What Is Love?**

Part 3: _Keep Moving Forward_

_--_

"_I'm going to tell Marik to quit holding back. I'm going to tell him I'm fucking alive now!" Bakura laughed that dark laugh of his that often accompanied statements that only seemed to make sense in his own head. Ryou had no idea where he'd pulled the energy for it after screaming his throat raw only moments before but it sent off all the proper chills and uneasiness of Bakura's own unique brand of normalcy so Ryou was glad. _

_He had a good hunch that life was about to get a lot more interesting…and just in time for his father's visit too. Ryou was just ecstatic._

--

Marik stretched his arms over his head after pulling away from the window where Malik had disappeared from view on his motorcycle on his way to school. He only got a few steps before a knock sounded at the door. Marik stared at it for a moment. It wasn't really his job to answer the door but curiosity got the best of him and he pulled open the door to find Bakura standing there. Bakura had never come to visit him before so, needless to say, Marik was a little surprised to find him standing there.

"Kura." he said, voice relaying his confusion and also that he found it a pleasant surprise as he moved aside to let the other in. Bakura stepped inside and Marik closed the door. "What's up?"

"Am I not welcome here?" Bakura inquired in no particular tone. "You certainly make yourself at home at mine."

Marik's grin lit his face happily as he approached the other. "Of course you are. Always. Move right on in." he said, almost giddily as he wrapped his arms around Bakura's waist and licked the side of his face.

Bakura had let Marik make the first move just to make sure he was still interested before turning suddenly and catching that tongue in an eager kiss. At first Marik was a little shocked but when Bakura wrapped his arms around his neck, it quickly faded to bliss as he yanked Bakura closer and returned the kiss heartily.

"Does this feel alive?" Bakura whispered when they parted for air.

Marik's answer was to bury his fingers in Bakura's hair and resume the kiss. Bakura ignored his tender scalp, enjoying the feel of Marik's fingers too much to drive them away.

"To what do I owe this _more than pleasant _visit?" Marik asked, moving his hands back to Bakura's waist and marveling that he hadn't been pushed away yet.

"Stop holding back." Bakura demanded in a level, but quiet tone.

Marik led Bakura by the hand to the couch in the living room where he took a seat and invited Bakura to approach. Bakura looked down at Marik. He could smell the change in Marik's mood, from his normal, musky scent to a warm scent that presented openly a soft lust. It was in his half-lidded eyes too, fogging them slightly.

Marik had often compared himself to his namesake, claiming himself a god of both lust and war. Marik lay himself open, undisguised emotions on display for all to see. Marik had nothing to hide, held no shame, and Bakura found that an endearing quality that made it easy to trust the other. If Marik meant harm, Bakura realized, he could not disguise it. Without Malik, Marik was a being of purity; pure sin and pure intentions.

Bakura advanced, kneeling over Marik, his knees on either side of Mairk's thighs where the other beckoned him. Marik reached up, cradling Bakura's face much like Ryou had to calm him from his nightmare, and pulled him down, renewing their kiss.

"Touch me, Kura." he instructed and Bakura realized that his arms had remained slack at his side. He lay his hands on Marik's chest. The tight black shirt allowed him to easily feel every muscle and ridge beneath. Marik's chest was hard and toned, more so than his own. Bakura broke their kiss briefly when he became fascinated by the rise and fall of Marik's chest beneath his fingers. Marik followed his line of view to Bakura's hand and smiled, moving forward to capture the other's lips once again. "Do anything you want." he whispered against Bakura's lips in open invitation.

Bakura removed his lips from Marik's once more, pulling back to watch the other carefully. Marik's breathing matched his own, deep and barely controlled. _Marik_ was beautiful, Bakura realized, like a sculpted vision of the god he claimed to be. When Bakura had fought against him during the battle city tournament, he had seen Marik through Malik, but somehow, he could no longer see Malik in Marik.

Bakura ran a thumb over the tattoo beneath one eye. Marik did not move. Bakura didn't know what they were doing. He wasn't going to have sex with Marik on his couch, if that's what the other wanted. Marik had said '_do anything you want'_ but Bakura didn't have anything in particular he wanted to do.

Bakura lay his forehead against Marik's chest, crushing his bangs above Marik's heart. "I want to tear out your heart." Bakura whispered. He didn't know why he'd said it. He didn't really. But looking back, it was the only kind of intimacy he'd ever known.

Marik's eyebrows hiked to his hairline as he looked down at the mass of white against his chest. "I might need it later." he said, a little confused. "You might like it where it's at someday."

"I think I love you." Bakura said, lifting his head to kiss Marik who moaned appreciatively at the caress, burying the fingers of one hand in the snowy tresses while the other hand slipped around to Bakura's back, stroking along his backbone in strong, slow motions.

Marik had honestly thought Bakura would never say those words. It had taken him long enough to say them as it was but to hear Bakura say them melted something in Marik. He wouldn't say it was his heart, but something felt like pudding just the same.

Marik slid the hand at Bakura's back under his shirt, enjoying the feel of skin to skin contact. Truth be told, Marik was more comfortable in nothing but boxers - or even nothing at all - and he enjoyed _feeling_ the people he was touching. Marik desperately wanted to rid them of the cloth separating them. He wanted to admire Bakura's form in all it's glory. Marik wanted nothing more than to worship the devil in his lap as he always should have been.

He didn't want to push Bakura _too much_. They didn't need to really _do_ anything. He just wanted Bakura to strip, although at this point, Marik didn't think Bakura would look too kindly on that request so for now he settled with bypassing Bakura's shirt.

The touches against his skin were a new experience for Bakura. They were pleasant, maybe too pleasant as they seemed to be making him feel nice but Marik wasn't gaining anything from them. Should he be returning the favor, somehow?

"You go out of your way to make me feel relaxed." Bakura observed, pulling away slightly and leaving Marik panting. "Don't you want anything in return? I can't read your fucking mind." he added, sounding a little pissed in his frustration.

Marik smirked in a gesture that Bakura instantly hated. "You over think things." he said simply. "Touching you is _immensely_ enjoyable." Bakura felt slightly mocked by that tone and frowned. "You could strip to humor the sinful voyeur you think you might have fallen for but I wouldn't blame you if you kept every single scrap of clothing on either." Bakura's frown deepened and Marik almost laughed. "Or you could scoot forward a little more, that would make me _very_ happy," He really didn't know when to quit. "…but if I get any happier somebody's gonna have to do something about it." he chuckled suggestively.

Bakura got the drift. Crimson-accented eyes regarded Marik irritably before Bakura grinned maliciously and slid his arms around Marik's neck, leaning sensuously across his chest to do so. "Then…" Bakura rocked forward causing Marik to throw his head back with a moan. "take care of it your own fucking self!" Bakura returned, swinging one leg back over Marik's knees and leaving him behind as he stalked toward the exit.

Marik caught up to him before he'd left the room and embraced him from behind, laying his chin on Bakura's shoulder apologetically. "Oh, come on. Don't be that way. _I was serious!_ You don't have to do anything. Let's just spend the day together. I won't see you for three days after this."

Marik was right. For three days, Bakura would be within the Ring and in Ryou's mind, as he had been before he'd been able to produce a body. Ryou's father would expect him to have the Ring. He knew nothing of it having been lost and recovered. And while Bakura could have stayed away without the Item for the three days, he was reluctant to do so. He would have felt the need to stalk Ryou and that was a hassle so for three days he would confine himself to the Ring and the soul room that continued to exist in Ryou's mind for him, although he hardly ever used it anymore.

"A sinful voyeur, huh?" Bakura mused.

"But honest." Marik added from Bakura's shoulder.

Bakura sighed. He supposed that sounded about right. "I don't know what to do with you."

Marik didn't know if Bakura meant he didn't know what _he_ should be doing or if he didn't know what to do with him so he kept quiet.

"What did you want to do?"

Marik did _not_ say 'Take off all of your clothes.'. He did _not_ say 'On second thought, keep 'em on, it won't stop me.'. _Nor_ did he say 'Go skinny-dipping in the neighbor's pool.'. With all of those options gone, what Marik said was: "Let's just go out. We'll figure out what to do when we get there." Marik removed himself from Bakura's shoulder and stepped around him, heading for the door.

Bakura followed with another sigh.

--

Bakura breathed in deeply of the crisp and tainted air that rustled the strands of his hair as he looked out over Domino City, the tops of distant buildings reaching toward the darkening sky below his feet. Marik joined him from behind, stepping up onto the ledge to his left, a hand rested against the statue of an angel next to him, marking a corner of the rooftop they were standing on.

Marik had begun by dragging him back to that accursed mall to buy incense and since he had been there already, Bakura had bought some of the kind Ryou burned. After that they had eaten at a café and gone to the pier where Marik had tried in vain to convince him to jump off the dock. When the sun had begun to set, they'd come here, picking and breaking locks and security cameras to get to the roof. Marik had said they'd put up the cameras since he'd started coming. He expected them to eventually get tired of replacing them since he wasn't stealing anything or causing any real damage.

Bakura had been skeptical but he had to admit, as the stars appeared overhead and the city lit up below them, that the view was a breathtaking sight. And the experience of the view - with the cool wind biting at his cheeks and lifting the hair hanging at the sides of his face, the world laid out at their feet, and Marik, standing at the brink of it all, on the razor's edge between domination and fragility, looking for all the world a stoic, calm spirit of darkness watching over all humanity - _that_ was the truly captivating part that made Bakura want to freeze that very moment in time and hold it forever within a globe so that he might always have the feeling that it stirred within and surrounded him with. Marik looked so _free_ standing there that Bakura was reluctant to address him least he drag the other painfully back down to earth.

But in the end, it was Marik who spoke first. "This is how gods look upon men … because they look better from up here." Marik looked back, grinning over his shoulder at Bakura who regarded him and then returned his attention to the horizon.

Bakura had nothing to say to that. That was the nature of gods after all, to watch from on high as men did whatever the fuck they wanted with no direction whatsoever. Bakura was inclined to say that mankind was a disgusting race that might benefit from a good armageddon or two but from up here, he felt less judgmental somehow.

Living their short lives out individually, men all strived for the same things, felt the same things, carried the same burdens and sins and hopes and dreams. He felt so far from them up here, in contrast to such a short time before when he'd felt crushed by the weight of time and the world itself, now he felt strangely detached.

"If I were to get abducted by aliens and they asked me why the human race deserved to live I think I'd say because they're so provocative."

Bakura furrowed his eyebrows at the ridiculous statement.

"It makes things interesting." Marik continued, happily, and perhaps it was a bit forced given the heavy atmosphere, but Bakura found himself paying attention anyway. "I don't think I would ever want to cross to the afterlife. I'd feel like I was wasting, ya know. I'd feel stale. But people are great cause they keep moving."

Bakura considered that. He had felt stagnant lately but things had really been moving around him all along, he just hadn't been interested until now. Looking out at the world through Marik's eyes, he saw the glowing yellow-white lights of endless buildings and street lamps and vehicles moving along paved roads, the distant sounds of horns and sirens and music; a world where everyone struggled to get by together, killing and fucking and fighting and lying together at night taking refuge in each other and feeling the warmth of sanctuary in another's embrace. They say life is important because it's the only place anything happens…or something to that effect. And Bakura was beginning to realize the truth of that sentiment. He was here, weather or not he _had _to be, so why chose to be miserable if he could enjoy himself?

Marik climbed down from the ledge and Bakura considered embracing him but found it awkward so instead he smiled at the other. "I think I will." he said, making Marik cock his head to the side slightly, his grin still plastered in place.

"Will what?"

"Be alive with you."

--

Ryou sighed heavily as he lowered himself into a seat at the small outdoor café table his father had taken him to for tea. All day Ryou had been going back and forth about weather or not to tell his father about Malik.

Bakura, oddly enough, seemed to be all for the idea. In fact, every time the idea had presented itself to Ryou's thoughts, Bakura had been right there to offer his own brand of encouragement; things like 'Just spit it out already.' and 'Go ahead. If he says anything insulting I'll change his mind for you.' - Ryou was afraid to think about how Bakura might do that. More often than not, horrible trauma seemed to spring to mind as the answer. -, also there was 'If you don't quit fussing over it I'll tell him myself.' and 'Ryou, I'll give you three seconds to tell him about one of us or I'll make up your mind for you.'

Needless to say, Ryou was more than a little frazzled as he took his seat and buried his nose in the menu.

Bakura, for his part, felt the need to be assertive since every time Ryou considered being honest with his father he was plagued with images of total rejection so for Ryou, it was a lose-lose situation; tell him and face disownment, don't tell him and suffer with the dishonesty. Bakura figured if Ryou told him, at least he wouldn't have to feel guilty, shy, and dishonest anymore.

There was nothing wrong with his feelings for Malik, Bakura believed that now and if Ryou's own father couldn't accept him than Ryou didn't need him anyway. Ryou had him, and Malik. What did Ryou need with someone who was never around anyway and didn't even care enough about him to accept the man he'd made himself into?

'_Ryou,_'

But Ryou didn't let him finish. "Dad…" Ryou's father looked up, giving his son his undivided attention. Ryou hesitated slightly, but now that he'd opened his mouth… "Remember that friend I told you about?"

"Isis Ishtar's brother?" his father asked, curiously.

"Yea." Ryou answered. "I wanted to invite him over for dinner." Ryou hesitated while his father processed the request.

"I suppose I don't mind that." he said, having thought about it. "I wouldn't mind meeting some of your friends." He gave Ryou a smile and returned his gaze to the menu in his hands.

Ryou bit his lip. "Well, you see, the thing is…" Ryou continued, drawing his fathers attention once more with his tentative tone of voice "he's…" The voice in Ryou's head that wasn't Bakura urged him to say it. Bakura remained silent, watching with rapt attention. "…gay… And he doesn't like to hide it and well, it never came up so I wasn't sure how you felt about that and I just thought I should ask before I introduced you to him just in case it wasn't something you were comfortable with…" Ryou was rambling in his nervousness and his father smiled apologetically. It saddened him to see his only son so hesitant to talk to him, so cautious around him. It shouldn't have been that way.

"Ryou," he interrupted "you don't need to tip-toe around me like that. I'm not a prejudiced man. I can accept others for who they are and I don't have any problems with you knowing people who are different."

The beginning of a relieved smile was making itself known on Ryou's face and he nodded, still tense. "Good. Great. Cause we're dating." As soon as the words escaped his lips Ryou felt time slam to an abrupt halt. His father looked back at him, just to make sure he'd heard his only son right and Ryou gaped like a fish out of water. Bakura snickered in the back of Ryou's mind, the noise becoming full-out laughter as Ryou's face burned crimson in the wake of his impromptu confession.

As it turned out, while hesitant, Ryou's father was not openly opposed to the idea and if anything, it made him more eager to meet Malik. He asked Ryou a host of embarrassing questions, the least of which were 'How long have the two of you been dating?' and 'Have the two of you…_you know_?' Ryou's father apparently, was no more tactful than Ryou himself.

Some of the more horrific questions involving health and hygiene and the upsetting questions involving Malik's intentions and Ryou's preferences, made Ryou want to just die right then and there. In fact, he'd even begged Bakura to take over for him and let him hide under the bed in his soul room until it was all over. And he meant _all _over because his father intended to ask the same questions of Malik at dinner that night, but Bakura had refused. What did he know about ST-whatevers and adoption?

Ryou cried pathetically across their link but Bakura had turned his thoughts to a different Ishtar. He wondered what Marik was doing in all the time he would normally be spending at his and Ryou's house. Was Marik thinking about him? Bakura was inclined to think he might be. He found himself wishing he could be nearer to Marik. He knew it was disgustingly sappy, but he wanted it just the same. He was sick of denying that Marik's arms felt good around him, sick of pretending that it didn't make him happy, sick of feeling buried in the sands of time. He wanted to be loved, to be able to love. Once, he had thought it impossible, even beneath him, but now he wasn't so sure. The way Marik presented it … it seemed a pretty amazing thing.

--

As if the universe were trying to prove Bakura right, Malik appeared right on time, wearing very nice clothes (jeans and a button-up shirt - so unprovocative they might have found their twin in Seto Kaiba's closet) and knowing full-well what the evening had in store for him.

Malik kissed Ryou lightly on the cheek before taking off his coat and smiling amicably at his love. "Marik sends his love." he stated, conversationally.

Ryou paused, conferring with the one in his head and smiled in return. "Tell him it is much appreciated."

"I'll pass it along." Malik affirmed, handing his coat over when Ryou held out his hands for it.

Not only did Malik remain in good humor throughout the entire meal, answering any and all questions directed at him - and in a compliant manor devoid of any and all profanity and/or suggestive undertones to boot - but he also made every effort to drive that good impression home with honest adoration of the chosen mate in question and even artifact-based conversation … the suck-up.

And just to wrap up the perfect evening with a silky bow, he kissed Ryou passionately on his way out - with his love's father in full view of the awe-inspiring event just to drive away any possible illusions of falseness he might have inadvertently displayed throughout the evening with his smiles and his gentleman-persona.

Bakura could have gagged. But Malik had done it all for Ryou, and that was something to be said for the normally brazen, provocative, loud-mouthed teen. The tame personality might have been an illusion, but Malik's passion for Ryou was not, and it was his passion that had driven him to create such an illusion so that Ryou could hold onto the precious relationship he shared with his only blood-relative. It was Malik putting Ryou first, and it was Bakura overwhelmed by the thought of having been presented with such a relationship himself, and feeling the warmth and pride associated with that knowledge.

Ryou paused, zoning for a second, before he stopped Malik in his exit, with a hand on his coat sleeve. Malik turned back curiously in the open doorway and Ryou smiled brightly. "Appreciated … and reciprocated." he amended and Malik grinned back.

"I can't wait for the wedding." he joked, making his exit giddily as he began to notice the visible change in Ryou as another, highly pissed, soul surged forward with a blaze of crimson flooding Ryou's irises.

Bakura's indignant anger did not dampen Ryou's amusement as he watched Malik run laughing to his motorcycle, waving over his shoulder. Ryou waved back, begging Bakura not to yell at him now, when his father would hear. Bakura receded in a huff, taking back everything nice he had thought about Ryou's insolent, brazen, pain-in-the-ass, boyfriend.

--

On Thursday afternoon, Ryou's father returned to his own home (even if he never referred to it as such), leaving Ryou and Bakura to theirs.

Ryou slumped heavily into the couch, letting out a breath of air he felt like he'd been holding for the past three days. "I miss him, but I'm relieved that he's gone." he mused into the air. "Does that make sense?"

"Perfect sense." Bakura answered, going to sit next to him.

Ryou leaned over, hoping that Bakura wouldn't say anything and let him stay and Bakura said nothing. He put his arm around Ryou's shoulders, startling the other slightly and stared off into the distance in silence. Ryou waited for Bakura to say something but it never came and after a while he began to relax, remembering vaguely that this was how he had always wished things could be. Warm and content, Ryou fell asleep in his dark's arms.

--

Bakura was the first one awake on Friday morning. He had planned to hop in the shower and head over to Marik's house but Marik beat him to it, showing up on his front step with Malik just as Bakura was getting out of the shower. Bakura came down the stairs, the towel still draped over his shoulders, to find Ryou at the door inviting them in. Malik had come to give him a ride to school and Marik had ridden along with him to visit Bakura.

Marik grinned, wrinkling his nose in some happy expression that seemed to say he liked what he saw as he regarded Bakura, whose wet hair still hung in clumps down his back and around his neck. Bakura responded with a look of his own, one that said 'What the hell are you thinking?'.

Marik embraced him, wrapping his arms around Bakura's waist and burying his nose in the wet white hair at the side of Bakura's head, breathing in deeply, enjoying the scent of Bakura's shampoo. "I _missed_ seeing you." he all but purred into Bakura's ear. "Did you miss me?"

"…Yea." Bakura answered, hesitantly. He wasn't sure if he should be coveting that truth or not.

This time Marik's hand found his back much faster, moving beneath the shirt to hold him in place as he teasingly licked at Bakura's lips, frustrating the other until he finally kissed him, grinning like a loon all the while. Bakura grabbed the sides of Marik's shirt angrily and yanked him forward until their bodies were flush. The action seemed only to add fuel to Marik's fire and when they parted for air he latched himself to Bakura's neck. The feeling was all too pleasurable, Bakura could feel it spread outward from the focal point through his entire body.

"Next time tell me when you're taking a shower." Marik mumbled against his skin. "You smell…so good." His voice rumbled through his chest, pressed so tightly against Bakura's. "I'll wash your back, your neck, …everything else…"

Those breathy words snapped Bakura out of the pleasant haze his mind had been settled in and he frowned, shoving Marik back harshly. _What had he been thinking_, telling Marik to _stop holding back? _Marik was a Ra-damned _nympho_. "What are we; giving out a free show?" he snapped.

"I don't mind if you don't." was his simple answer and Bakura felt like smacking his hand against his forehead but he settled for growling instead.

"Go away."

"You're sexy as all hell." Marik replied frankly. "Don't get wet, and I won't like seeing you wet."

"You're stupid."

Marik's grin returned full force, giving Bakura an ill feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Maybe," the blonde consented "but I'm sexy too, have I been holding out?"

"Ok, guys, we're leaving." Malik called out, passing his dark and Bakura as Marik was pulling off his shirt. "Don't break anything."

"Bye." Ryou threw in and, vaguely, in the background, Bakura heard the door closing behind them.

But in the foreground, where his line of vision was held firmly in place before Marik's bare chest, Bakura was having trouble remembering what it was he had been saying. The unmarred, smooth expanse of perfectly tanned skin, ending abruptly at the top of his pants, made those pants look like a distasteful obstruction, as though they really had no right to be there, covering a sight they ought not to deprive others of.

"I've been meaning to say this from the very beginning." Marik was saying as he dropped his shirt to the floor. "I said I love you, I want to be with you, but I never really gave you anything to prove that. But I'm all I've got so you should know, if you ever want to touch me or…smack me or…anything… It's your right. Those words mean a lot to me. They're a bond I didn't make lightly and I don't intend to break. I know you're not sure what you want with me just yet, but you've accepted me and I'll do - or not do - whatever you want. And don't mind if I tell you what I want too. Doesn't mean you have to do it, or I expect you to do it."

Bakura let it all sink in. Finally he spoke, averting his gaze slightly. "You're too patient, you're humoring me too much."

"Touch me." Marik said, in a low, lustful voice, coming within reach.

He'd just said that Bakura didn't have to, that he didn't _expect_ him to, but he reached out anyway, laying his hand flat against Marik's chest, fingers splaying slowly as Bakura once again watched the interesting display of colors play before his eyes. Marik's chest was as smooth and warm as it looked. Marik's eyes slid closed by half, enjoying the contact. "Touch is…a base gesture." Bakura mumbled, explaining Marik's enjoyment to himself. "Soft touches are comforting. … I hit you."

Marik looked down at Bakura curiously. "I deserved it." he replied simply.

Bakura let it settle before he spoke again. "I don't know how to touch you, the way you want… It's easier with Ryou."

It felt strange to touch Marik the way he touched Ryou, like someone who needed comfort, nor did he want to strike the other, but that entire middle-ground that Bakura just assumed was there, was completely foreign to him.

Marik felt like he was repeating himself. What part of _"Do whatever you want." _didn't Bakura understand? Or was Bakura only touching him because he wanted to please him? He'd never really considered _that_ before but, maybe Bakura didn't desire him, per se, the way he desired Bakura.

Marik sighed. "You don't _have to_,you know."

Bakura's eyebrows furrowed at the comment and he frowned. "Sit." Bakura ordered, pointing toward the couch and Marik obediently turned and followed Bakura's indicating finger. As he moved, Bakura caught sight of the scars marring his back. He'd never really been sure they were there until he saw them. They spanned the entire expanse of skin shown, right down to his pants and maybe further. He'd never really paid much attention during Battle City, but he'd gotten the gist of their origin. Even knowing what little he did made them appear all the more horrific to his eyes. Marik took his seat in the middle of the couch, curious as to what Bakura intended to do, and the other pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind.

Bakura followed and kneeled over Marik the same way he had when they'd been on Marik's couch. "Do whatever you want." he said, repeating Marik's previous invitation, interested to know what the other would do. But Bakura did not wait for Marik's answer, instead, he moved in, lapping at the base of Marik's throat before moving slightly to the side, where he could feel the pulse beneath his lips, and scraped his teeth sharply against the spot. Marik tilted his head back and hissed at the sudden sensation, wrapping his arms around Bakura's hips, his hands landing squarely on Bakura's ass and gripping tightly. He had been wanting to touch Bakura's ass for a while and as long as he'd been given free reign, he was gonna do it.

Bakura bit back a moan and concentrated on the taste of Marik's throat beneath his lips as he caressed the area with a quickly learning tongue. A heady taste, like natural musk and spices that Bakura found he enjoyed. Just below Marik's ear, Bakura received a loud groan that told him he'd found a sensitive area and he nudged the earring aside with his nose to explore it, causing Marik to writhe under him.

And then Bakura felt the hands slide down his jeans, short nails raking their way back to the surface and making Bakura arch slightly in Marik's arms with a moan. "So responsive." Marik whispered and Bakura scoffed.

"Look who's talking." Bakura reached out, wiping the wetness from below Marik's ear and Marik grinned.

"Our hikari's are going to that concert tomorrow." he said and Bakura's brain scrambled for some connection between that and what they were currently doing. "Let me spend the night here with you, and Ryou can stay at my house with Malik."

Connections in Bakura's brain were drawing lines to hazardous conclusions that he felt needed to be personally confirmed, so he asked "For…?"

"Let me make love to you."

The request was so soft-spoken, so _affectionate_, Bakura wasn't quite sure he'd heard it right. The words didn't quite seem to register in his brain. 'Let's fuck.' 'I wanna have sex.'; those might have made more sense, but Marik's chosen words took a while longer to process.

And apparently he'd taken too long to put together a response because Marik laid a hand on his hip and said "Kura?" like he was starting to get concerned.

Bakura regarded Marik carefully. He had let Marik get close to him, let him touch him in ways he had never thought to allow another to touch him. Marik said he wanted him, cared for him, and Bakura believed him. In the back of his mind, Bakura knew that it shouldn't have been a decision made so logically, that he should have been more emotional than he was, that he should have felt as passionately as Marik did. He felt so…detached.

"I don't know…" Bakura finally answered as though the words were coming from far away, as he moved back and stood.

"Am I rushing it?" Marik asked, leaning forward slightly. "…Or are you over-thinking it?"

Bakura frowned. "Sex is an act of domination." Bakura mumbled, mostly to himself. He wanted to touch Marik, to be touched by him…but he did _not_ want to be dominated by Marik.

"Who told you _that_?" Marik asked heatedly.

"No one _told_ me!" Bakura shouted back, irritated. "You lay yourself out naked while someone does whatever the hell they want with your body!" Seriously! Did Marik think he didn't know _anything_ about sex?

…

Marik stared back at Bakura like he'd grown an extra head and Bakura didn't appreciate the look at all. "Ok, first of all," Marik said suddenly "if I _ever_ do _anything_ that you don't like to your body…we will have…_serious_…negotiations. And second, yes, it's about trust. … Have you ever been raped?" he asked suddenly, interrupting himself. Marik had honestly never even considered the possibility, but Bakura had once been a child, he supposed. Something like that would be a good explanation for all of his doubt and seriously skewed views on the subject.

Bakura's eyes widened as he regarded the other. "_**No!**_"

"Well…did you want top?" Marik was struggling to understand why Bakura was having such a hard time with this.

Bakura's anger vanished instantly and he stared back dumbfounded. Why would Marik want to have sex with him if he wasn't in control? Marik wasn't the submissive type (not that Bakura was either, but Marik seemed so enthusiastic about the whole affair).

"You would still want to have sex with me if you're … on the bottom?"

Marik sighed. "It's not about control. It's about _being_ with you." It was strange to have to explain it. "As fucking sappy as it sounds, it's as much about that bond as the pleasure you get making it. I give my body to you, you give yours to me … it's kind of a simultaneous thing. It's hot and sexy and dirty and fun and it makes two people a part of each other. If you chose to see it that way…"

Bakura had never considered his view of sex as an opinion. But not only did Marik have a _different _opinion, he didn't seem willing to cooperate with Bakura's opinion at all. He could have said yes and fucked Marik, he could have done that from the beginning if he'd distanced it from meaning, but he didn't _want_ to. He wanted to have something meaningful, something warm and emotional and all-encompassing; something to live for and no one could _live_ for a good fuck. Bakura wanted Marik to prove him wrong. He wanted to trust Marik and so, Bakura found himself nodding, a slight motion, but decided all the same.

"Ok. …Show me."

Marik's eyes lit up and he surged forward, throwing his arms around Bakura's waist and burying his nose happily in what ended up to be Bakura's crotch. Bakura looked down at him, hand hovering above his head in indecision as to weather he should shove the other away or not. Marik made a noise strangely resembling a deep-throated purr that sent pleasant vibrations all throughout Bakura's body and instead of shoving Marik away, the hand settled on top of his head and rose and fell, patting the blonde spikes of hair resignedly.

--

On a normal day, it took Ryou about twenty minutes to get ready to go any particular place; teeth, hair, clothes…hell, the hair alone took most of that time, and if he needed a shower first - forty minutes (and that was only if he went out with wet hair or blow-dried his hair which he absolutely preached against). It took Bakura three minutes, thirteen with a shower.

On that particular Saturday afternoon, Ryou was glad that he had taken his shower in the morning, because Bakura had been in the bathroom for the last hour and holding. He was inclined to ask if he'd gotten lost inside, seeing as it was relatively unfamiliar territory. Bakura did not believe in wasting any more time in the bathroom than was absolutely necessary.

Finally, Bakura emerged from the room in question. The first thing Ryou noticed was the smell. Not only did Bakura smell particularly _clean_ but there were other warm smells wafting out of the room with him. If Ryou had to hazard a guess, Bakura had used enough of his once-a-week conditioner that tended to lose its effectiveness in two days (because, of course, Bakura should have been using it more than once a week) to make his hair flow like silk for a week. Amazingly enough, it looked like despite all the conditioner it was going to retain its natural shape no matter what Bakura did - not that that was a bad thing. Ryou had always liked Bakura's hair. He thought it added to his character, wild and untamable.

Ryou leaned over the back of the couch, resting his chin on folded arms as Bakura descended the stairs.

"I don't think you've ever been that clean before in your life." he commented to which Bakura predictably frowned. "Not that I'm not thoroughly impressed, but I thought you said you weren't going with us to the concert. So…what's the occasion?"

"Marik and I are having sex." Bakura answered bluntly.

Ryou could have swore he heard the distant sound of fields of ice cracking in large fissures down in hell and all that heat redirected straight to his face, spreading gracefully across his cheeks in a crimson blush.

"Oh…o..um…" Ryou's mouth opened and closed but there just weren't any words there.

"Don't bother." Bakura threw with an exaggerated frown as he made his way past Ryou and to the kitchen.

Ryou turned quickly as his voice suddenly kicked back in. "Does this mean you're dating now?"

"Maybe."

Ryou didn't know which was more shocking; the thought of the possibility of his dark _dating_, or Bakura's partial admission to such an event.

_Wow,_ Ryou thought. The world truly _was_ filled with strange and wondrous things.

Malik and Marik pulled in at six-thirty and Ryou let them inside. Marik was carrying a paper bag, crimped shut at the top, which he sat on an end-table near the door and afterward ignored while Ryou made small-talk with them.

They were excited to go to the concert. From what Marik had heard, the tickets were nearly impossible to get, so Malik had been lucky as all hell. He was even sporting a t-shirt with the band's name plastered on the front of it. _Gackt_. Marik had just rolled his eyes at his light and kept his mouth shut.

After the concert, they were planning on staying up all night. Malik wanted to get Ryou hyper on sugar to see how the other would act. Marik didn't know about Ryou, but Bakura's light was certainly in for a surprise when _Malik _got himself hyper. Marik almost wished he could be there to see it…but, of course, _his_ night was going to be a least a thousand times better than Malik's so, what did he care?

Sparing a glance at Bakura, standing beside his other half, Marik felt an almost lecherous grin…yea, ok, almost didn't cut it…pull at his lips, showing a little teeth. Thoughts of finally getting rid of those Ra-damned pants of his and touching that surprisingly soft skin…until the touch alone made Bakura moan, had him about ready to shove their lights out the door and tell them to enjoy themselves while he waved frantically and slammed the door in their faces. Hey, a little lust is healthy in a relationship. But instead, he waited patiently until finally they decided for themselves to go.

Ryou put on his shoes and jacket, Marik opened the door for them (an unusually kind gesture that caused Malik to look at him suspiciously), but Bakura stopped Ryou on his way. Marik watched the gesture with blatant shock. Didn't Bakura want them to leave?! _Right now? _

Bakura took the Ring off and placed it over Ryou's head. "Don't hesitate to use it if you have to. I'll feel it and come right away." he said…causing Marik's heart to spazz in his chest. Bakura would _leave_?! _Right in the middle?!_ **What the fuck?! **

Ryou smiled back and thanked him and wished him a good time and a good night before turning and following Malik to the door. He stopped, looking up at Marik, placing a hand on his arm, a gentle touch, and smiled softly. "Make him smile." he said, maybe too quiet for Bakura to hear, and left the house without waiting for an answer.

It took Marik a moment for it to all sink in, but when it had, a smile hit his own face and he leaned out the door after them and shouted "Count on it!" before closing the door happily.

Marik let it build up happily until he exploded, turning and making his way to Bakura, who just seemed to be standing there waiting for it, and squealed as he threw his arms around the white-haired thief, twirling him around with the force of his attack.

"_**What the hell?!**_" Bakura screeched, in an altogether undignified way as he stumbled back but Marik followed, crashing his lips to Bakura's happily. Bakura fisted his hands in Marik's shirt, sighing resignedly in his head as he kissed the other back, just as fiercely.

"Pick a surface." Marik declared boldly when they parted for air.

Bakura's face turned red. "_**The fucking bed, asshole!**_" he yelled, causing Marik to laugh.

"I thought you'd say that." Marik returned cheekily. "That's what the bag's for." he added in a sing-song tone.

Bakura couldn't help it. "What's in the bag?" he asked, curiously.

Marik waved a finger in front of his face. "Na-uh. That's for later."

Bakura frowned. "So what are we doing now?" he asked, slightly irritated.

"Right now…" Marik drawled, threading his fingers through Bakura's hair, surprised when his fingers slid through the strands like silk. He watched the motion, fascinated, for several seconds before he continued "I'm going to touch you." Bakura watched the slow grin split his face before their eyes met. "There's no need to rush. Not the first time. Next time…" he added, pointedly " Next time I'll show you my bunny impression." The grin became a leer and Bakura reminded himself that he had, in fact, asked for this.

"And when do you think _next time_ is going to be?" Bakura challenged but Marik didn't take it as such.

"Twenty minutes after the first time…give or take. We've got all night." Marik answered bluntly.

Bakura's eyes widened and Marik swooped in for another scorching kiss. "Kiss me baby." Marik whispered. "Don't make me do all the work."

Bakura growled, fisting a hand in Marik's hair and yanked forward, deepening the kiss as his tongue waged all-out war on Marik's who groaned lustfully.

"Don't call me '_baby_'." Bakura growled, loosing his hold as he released Marik's mouth.

Marik licked his lips, tasting a trace of blood from where Bakura's sharp canines had nicked his bottom lip. Violet eyes hazed with desire. "As you wish." he all but growled out lowly in a voice clearly saturated with lust, taking a line from Malik's favorite romance.

Bakura's teeth were now taking an active interest in Marik and when Bakura returned, Marik could feel the sharp points of his canines scrape across his flesh, nipping at his throat and below his chin as Bakura worked his way back to his lips. Marik grabbed hold of Bakura's arms as the thief kissed him soundly. Bakura stirred feelings in him that no other ever could. He felt drunk and high and relaxed all at the same time.

Hands slid up Bakura's arms, heedless of the sleeves of his shirt that his hands pushed up on their path northward. Finally halted by the no-longer yielding cloth, Marik's hands moved up to dig into the snow-white hair at the nape of Bakura's neck to hold him in place as they kissed.

Bakura's hands were no longer idle, either. They moved to the hem of Marik's shirt and slid beneath, sliding slowly up his sides with just enough pressure to make Marik crave more.

Marik pulled away just enough to pull the shirt over his head and throw it to the floor, reaching for Bakura's shirt as well, craving that contact, but Bakura stopped him, reaching down to remove it himself. Marik took a moment to admire the sight before pulling Bakura into another, near-frenzied kiss that the other matched effortlessly, pressing against Marik who used the opportunity to embrace the thief, allowing his hands to roam freely across Bakura's back, while Bakura's busied themselves at his chest.

Marik moaned appreciatively when Bakura slid a hand across one, anticipating nipple and Bakura repeated the action, enjoying Marik's reaction to his touch. Ryou read yaoi manga, so Bakura had flipped through a few books, not that he would base a sexual encounter on something he had read in a picture-book, but it did give him a few ideas.

Bakura rolled the nub between his thumb and forefinger, smirking as Marik gasped. Leaning down, Bakura flicked his tongue across it before following with his teeth, scraping the sensitive flesh, his grin widening as Marik groaned.

Marik looked down at the mass of white hair bowed before him. Bakura had one hand on his shoulder, holding him against the wall (when, exactly, his back had hit the wall, he wasn't sure) while the other helped out his mouth…not that it needed any help. The scene was so erotic, he could feel the pressure building down south, throbbing pleasantly against his the cloth of his cargos.

Bakura moved on to the other nipple, taking his time, and all Marik could do was sink his fingers into that mass of white and hold on, closing his eyes blissfully. When Bakura was rightfully satisfied with himself and moved back to Marik's lips, the Egyptian moved his hands around Bakura's waist, slipping them beneath his jeans and grabbed Bakura's ass, yanking him forward, grinding their growing erections together through the heavy cloth. Bakura groaned and Marik hissed.

Eager to intensify the feeling, Marik reached between them, quickly undoing the button and zipper of his pants and shaking his legs until the pants began to slid down on their own. A little more maneuvering and they were around his ankles where he could step out of them and kick them away, never losing contact with Bakura's lips in the process.

Marik took a step forward, pressing one leg between Bakura's, who pressed back against it, drawing another moan from him.

Bakura watched as Marik knelt down slowly and undid the button and zipper of his jeans, pulling them down to his feet. Bakura's breath hitched as he caught the look of desire and appreciation in Marik's eyes. Marik slid an open hand over the half-hardened erection beneath the cotton of his boxers and turned his attention momentarily to the expanse of skin above the material, pressing his lips to Bakura's abdomen as his hands stroked the skin pleasurably.

Part of Bakura wanted to close his eyes and enjoy the new sensations but he forced himself to watch the erotic scene. Watching intensified the feeling, knowing that Marik wanted to make it pleasurable for him. Marik was surprisingly gentle in his caresses, too gentle, as they made Bakura ache for them all the more. So when Marik hooked his fingers over the edge of his boxers, Bakura was less opposed to the idea and made no protest as Marik pulled them down to join his pants at his feet.

The feeling of finally being fully exposed, and standing directly in front of Marik, his pulsing erection, starting to demand attention, inches in front of the Egyptian's nose, hit Bakura suddenly as a tidal wave of sorely belated insecurity.

"So beautiful." Marik murmured, sliding his hands from abdomen to thigh enjoying the lack of a hindrance to his actions and the sculpted perfection in all its glory displayed before him.

Bakura blushed again, cursing himself for it, and Marik rose, taking Bakura by the hand and leading him into the living room, straight to the couch where he insisted Bakura sit. Marik moved forward but Bakura stopped him, grabbing Marik's one piece of remaining clothing in irritated fists.

"Not until you take these off."

Marik looked down, as if he had forgotten they were there in the first place, and grinned. "Go ahead."

Bakura had really meant for Marik to do it himself, but he didn't protest the point. Hesitating only slightly, he slid them off of Marik's hips himself, revealing the impressive package beneath. He was larger than Bakura and irritation flared momentarily. "Well what the fuck did you want that other rod for?" he demanded, frowning in his fleeting irritation.

Marik roared with laughter, igniting another blush to Bakura's face and the thief looked away slightly, embarrassed. Marik leaned over Bakura, coaxing him into another heated kiss as the laughter and subsequent snickers died down. "Impressed?" he asked smugly, speaking against Bakura's lips. "It's all yours." he purred and Bakura had the sudden urge to give it a good tug to test the theory but refrained, committing that comment to memory for later use.

"I thought you brought the bag so we could go to the bedroom for this." Bakura said, trying to get a handle on the situation by changing the subject slightly. The words were coming with far too much difficulty for Bakura's liking.

Marik blew it off with a slight movement of his head. "Appetizers before the main course, love." he purred in Bakura's ear, moving away before Bakura could reply.

Marik wasted no time in repositioning himself before Bakura could have a chance to process his little comment, kneeling between the other's knees and reaching around to lay one arm on the couch in constant contact with his thigh where his thumb could stroke Bakura's backside comfortingly while his remaining hand set to stroking something else.

At first Marik's touches only grazed him, sliding across his thigh and then stroking the length of his erection with just his thumb. And just those touches caused his entire groin to blaze with a restlessness that almost demanded he reach down there and take care of it himself, make quick work of it and be done. But Bakura grabbed onto the back of the couch instead.

"Relax." Marik whispered soothingly, pulling him forward slightly, so that he was forced to lean back into the cushions and move his hands down where they scrambled for something to grab or touch or _somewhere_ to be. One hand found Marik's arm and Bakura eased slightly. Marik released his ass to thread his fingers with Bakura's and Bakura's gaze was on its way to their hands when his eyes jerked back to Marik who's tongue had followed the path of his thumb clear to the tip of his member.

Bakura watched as Marik took just the head into his mouth and groaned as Marik's tongue slid along the underside, past his lips, drawing more of him into that wet heat. Marik rose and descended, taking more each time until Bakura could no longer watch and let his head fall back against the cushions, riding the waves of pleasure, his pulse pounding in his groin every time Marik moved.

Marik released him entirely to lap at the pre-cum leaking from the head of his erection and Bakura fisted his hand in Marik's blonde spikes, encouraging him to continue. Marik gave one last lick before moving forward again, taking Bakura's entire length in one fluid motion that made Bakura gasp at the sudden feeling of Marik's throat closing around him.

Bakura's hips jerked forward but Marik was ready for it, using the motion to start the rhythm as he moved back and forth, sucking and swallowing around Bakura's throbbing member.

Bakura tried to watch as Marik's head bobbed between his legs but he was losing control as the overwhelming feeling washed over him. Bakura's neck craned back, his head pressing into the cushions behind him and his eyes rolled back as he gasped for air.

Marik quickened his pace, scraping his teeth lightly across the over-sensitized flesh in his mouth. He could feel Bakura was close. Marik purred around Bakura's erection, the vibrations finally sending Bakura over the edge.

Bakura's back arched off the couch and he cried out, his grip in Marik's hair and on his hand tightening unintentionally, turning his knuckles white with the pressure as he came forcefully in Marik's mouth. Marik swallowed it all as Bakura eased back to the couch, releasing the death-grip on his hair as he gasped to fill his lungs, and released him slowly, suckling lightly at the tip before letting it go and crawling over Bakura until he had the thief's attention. Once Marik was sure he had Bakura's attention, he made a show of licking his lips and then leaned down to kiss Bakura hungrily, sharing the taste with the thief.

"God, your so fucking erotic." Bakura whispered, pulling Marik forward with an arm around his waist. "Can I have the mouth too?"

Marik chuckled. "As you wish." he whispered back before reclaiming Bakura's lips with a grin.

Marik smelled and tasted like sex, and not just literally, there was something about him, something that Bakura couldn't quite put his finger on, but it drove him to crave the other's touch, everywhere at once, and to deepen the kiss until he could no longer tell whose tongue or mouth was whose. Marik moaned into the kiss and Bakura pulled him closer, pressing Marik's still-engorged member against his abdomen, resulting in another deep groan, swallowed by Bakura's hungry kiss.

Bakura really didn't know what came over him as he reached down to Marik's legs to draw him further into him, forcing Marik to bend down more to kiss him. Raking his nails down the perfectly tanned ass, Bakura left his lips to take Marik's member into his own mouth. Marik gasped, leaning over Bakura's head to grip the back of the couch as he shuddered with pleasure.

"Bakura…"

Bakura ignored him, sliding his hands delicately up to the small of Marik's back and beyond, feeling every line and groove of scar tissue seared into his very make-up. Bakura tried to deep-throat him, but it didn't work quite so well for him as it had for Marik so he made better use of his tongue instead. He could already taste the first drops of Marik's semen leaking as he sucked and caressed the hardened length in his mouth.

Bakura hadn't really thought about this before he'd done it, but now that it was too late to think about it, he found the taste only spurned him on. It was a part of the smell Marik was giving off, that drew him to the Egyptian like a damn cat in heat. The sensations Marik had caused in him had been so…amazing, for lack of a better word; Bakura wanted to know that he could make Marik feel that way too, he wanted Marik to feel that feeling, and if Marik's panting above him was any indication, he was feeling it acutely.

Marik could feel his release coming. He hadn't planned on Bakura returning the favor like he had. Bakura was incredible. Every stoke of his tongue made Marik shudder with need. Ra, this was the most incredible sensation he'd ever had in his whole fucking life. Bakura tightened his lips as he pulled back, sucking hard and Marik had to forcibly hold back.

"Kura…" his voice was strained and breaking. "I'm gonna…" One more move like that would push him over the edge. "You don't have to swallow it…" He couldn't stop it.

Bakura ignored him and repeated his performance, humming slightly, the vibrations doing to Marik what they had done to him. Marik cried out his name, shooting his seed in Bakura's mouth, only, since Bakura wasn't deep-throating him it was harder for him to swallow it all but what slid from the corner of his mouth didn't get far as Marik dropped down, crashing his mouth to Bakura's fervently and swallowed the rest himself, sharing it with his lover.

When they parted, Marik closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Bakura's. Bakura waited for him to do something but Marik stayed like that for several long seconds before he even spoke and when he did, the words caught Bakura off guard.

"I love you, Kura." he said seriously.

"You shouldn't say that so much." Bakura mumbled back. "It's something you say to a woman."

"No it's not." Marik's tone hadn't changed. He made Bakura feel stupid for even saying it in the first place.

Bakura closed his eyes, allowing his hands to drift across Marik's back. He wasn't sure how the other felt about it, but his hands seemed to gravitate toward those scars, maybe for deep, profound reasons, but Bakura wasn't willing to think about any of that now.

Marik took a deep breath, let it out and let the moment pass before he spoke. "You know, it's still early. We could…take a quick shower, have a bite to eat, do something for a while…" He didn't want to make Bakura think he was putting their date with the bed off, he just wanted to spend some more time with him before they called it a night. He wanted it to be the last thing they did before sleeping so that he could fall asleep with Bakura, rather than it happening too early and then they'd get up to do other things.

"Ok."

Marik smiled, the action reminding him that he had yet to pull a soft, genuine smile from his lover - and he aimed to keep his promise to Ryou. Pushing himself back, Marik stood, holding a hand out for Bakura who took it and stood. Bakura hadn't really needed help standing, Marik knew that, so it made him happy that Bakura had taken his hand without much thought.

Bakura led the way upstairs and Marik followed him into the bathroom, leaving the door open behind them as Bakura started the water. When it was to Bakura's liking, they both stepped in. Marik closed the curtain behind them and pulled Bakura into an embrace, pressing firm against Bakura's back.

"What are you doing?"

Marik grinned, swaying back and forth slowly as if they were on a dance floor, making Bakura sway with him.

"Helping." Marik said simply, splaying one hand on Bakura's abdomen and the other on his shoulder, lowering his head to drag his tongue across Bakura's shoulder.

"With your tongue?"

"Sure."

"…You're weird."

"Mmm…thank you."

Bakura rolled his eyes and leaned his head back against Marik's shoulder, letting the water run against his chest as Marik's tongue found his throat and both hands drifted lower. It was such a lulling atmosphere. Bakura could almost fall asleep but for the hand at his chest, playing casually with one nipple. Marik's licks became kisses before he pulled away entirely, causing Bakura to frown and look back to see what Marik was doing.

Marik had grabbed the nylon sponge, hanging over the shower head, and squirted some of Ryou's shower gel into it. Bakura stared back at it in disbelief. Was Marik actually planning on _washing him_? What were they, on a fucking honeymoon? And that was Ryou's stuff, Bakura just used the soap. He didn't want to smell like Ryou…especially not later when they were…

"What the fuck are you doing?" Bakura ground out as Marik returned to his former position and set the sponge against his chest.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Marik returned evenly, with maybe just a hint of a challenge in there somewhere.

"I can wash myself." Bakura informed him, craning his neck so that he could frown at Marik over his shoulder.

"I know that." Marik answered, moving the netting in slow circles over his chest. "But I want to."

"You'll make me smell like Ryou." Bakura complained, his resolve dissipating slowly.

"You could never smell like Ryou." Marik returned, maintaining the same tone he'd been using thus far and Bakura had to take a moment to determine weather that had been an insult, a complement, or just simply a fact. He concluded that it must have been meant as a fact when Marik started nuzzling the area just under his ear with his nose. Marik was shamelessness in its purest form.

"Just let me." Marik whispered against his neck, but they were unnecessary words as Bakura had already returned his head to Marik's shoulder and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of Marik's caresses against his skin too much to continue complaining about them.

Marik had never imagined touching anything so gently. Not even Malik had he touched with such reverence, certainly not himself. In all the time he had known Bakura, nothing that the other had ever done or said had indicated that he should be handled with such care. Bakura was anything but delicate. But for some reason, when confronted with Bakura like this, he was compelled to worship what lay before him, like the blessing he most assuredly was. People like Bakura did not often offer themselves to creations like Marik. Marik knew a blessing when he saw it; weather it was a blessing from Bakura himself or from Ishtar made no difference. Marik fully intended to make it undeniably clear to both of them that he cherished it and had no intention of ever letting it slip away.

Marik moved the scrubber in small, continuous circles over Bakura's chest and abdomen, working his way smoothly toward his partner's groin. Bakura's breath hitched slightly as he dragged the sponge over the sensitive flesh he could see over Bakura's shoulder, carefully and with an ease that was meant to make it a pleasant experience without being too arousing.

Once Marik was satisfied, Bakura took the sponge from him, turning to face Marik and holding his gaze as he reached around him to rub slow strokes across his back. Marik enjoyed the touch. It was soothing and he wrapped his arms around Bakura, holding him loosely, closing his eyes and concentrating on the feeling. After a minute though, he brought himself to speak, breaking the feeling with his solemn tone.

"Bakura, there's something I should probably say…"

Bakura paused but continued, grunting for Marik to go on.

"I don't think you could ever take me from behind."

The odd statement caught Bakura's movement once again but he continued again too, saying nothing, waiting for Marik to elaborate.

"It's not that I don't enjoy your touches or couldn't stand to be pressed against." Marik tried to explain. "But I don't think I could ever be taken from behind. I…have nightmares. I know its ridiculous. It doesn't make sense. But they make me violent…and…terrified. I've broken things. I hit Malik once when he woke me up. I killed one of the rare hunters when I still had the Rod. … So I won't take you that way either. … I have issues."

Bakura snorted dismissively. "Who doesn't?"

Marik tightened his hold on Bakura, laying his head to rest on the thief's shoulder as Bakura continued to sooth the scars that manifested on his back, straight from his soul.

When they got out of the shower, the two made their way downstairs in just their towels since Marik's clothes were strewn across the living room floor along with Bakura's. Now that Bakura thought of it, he'd missed lunch getting ready for tonight and he was starving. Throwing open the fridge, he asked if Marik wanted anything as he bent down to have a better look.

"Yea," Marik said from behind him in a tone that Bakura should have recognized from that first word alone "bend over a little more."

Bakura straightened, throwing the blonde an exaggerated frown over his shoulder. "_Food-wise_." he elaborated but found an error in that too as Marik opened his mouth to reply with a wide grin and cut him off. "Nevermind."

Marik's grin only widened.

Bakura threw sandwiches together and passed Marik one. Not wanting to eat in silence, Marik said "I heard the dinner with Ryou's dad went well. Everybody seems to be happy about it."

"Aren't you?" Bakura asked by way of conversation.

Marik nodded. "I really like Ryou. He's…somethin' else." Marik allowed a soft smile to play at his lips as he recalled his own encounter with Ryou. "An' Malik's all hearts and poetry over him, like he's envisioning some quiet house with kittens and kids everywhere or something. I don't know."

Bakura grinned in spite of himself. "Sounds like Ryou."

The train of thought died, evaporating into the room and leaving them in silence.

"We should all buy a house and live together." Marik said suddenly and Bakura looked to him curiously.

"Since when were you all for the whole _family_ thing?" he asked, regarding Marik carefully.

Marik shrugged, his gaze drifting off slightly. Malik, Bakura, and Ryou, they were all he had. He didn't want to lose them for the sake of moving on. "Sounds better than the one I got I guess." he answered offhandedly with a weak grin.

Bakura returned Marik's gesture, shrugging and turning away, giving his attention to some non-existent thing in the distance. "So move in." he returned in the same off-handed tone. "Ryou's father may not think it, but it's not his house. It's Ryou's and mine."

Marik blinked, his surprise melting into a smile as he leaned forward, kissing Bakura across the corner of the table, his tongue dipping into the thief's mouth before their lips met. Bakura kissed him back, forgetting what little bit of his sandwich was left.

"You're overdressed." Marik murmured against Bakura's lips but before Bakura could reply, he pulled back and stood. "Wait here while I empty out that paper bag."

Bakura watched Marik walk out of the kitchen, curious as to what might be in that bag. Knowing Marik, he was almost afraid to know. Visions of furry handcuffs and vibrators came to mind. Was it too much to ask just to have sex? Just regular, old fashioned sex…for the first time around anyway? Then Bakura remembered that Marik intended to do this more than once tonight. We'll see, Bakura thought.

It didn't take Marik long before he returned and dragged Bakura from his chair with both hands. "You ready?" he asked, softly and Bakura nodded his consent, too anxious to reply that they had already done _everything_ else, how could he _not_ be ready?

Marik led him up the stairs, pulling him along like a child with his best friend on a play date and pushed open the door of Bakura's bedroom for them as if he were presenting an achievement he was particularly proud of.

The smell of incense rolled lazily into the hallway; something light and sultry that Bakura wasn't familiar with…no, it was something Ryou didn't burn but Bakura was sure he had smelled it before somewhere. On Marik, he realized after a moment's thought. He had smelled it on Marik before. The lights in the room were off, offsetting the wavering glow of many candles, situated in various strategic areas about the room. The paper bag was tucked just under the bed, still rolled shut, indicating that there were other items inside and on the dresser was a bottle that Bakura had not put there. Bakura was glad he'd cleaned his room because Marik had obviously been from one end of it to the other.

"You're going to burn the house down." he said in a deadpan tone without looking at Marik.

"Yea," Marik scratched the back of his head as he surveyed his work. "too much? I wasn't going to go all romantic or anything but I wanted us to be able to see without too much light, you know? I like them, but we'll have to watch where we throw our towels, I guess." he added, turning and tugging on Bakura's for emphasis.

"Hallway seems like a good place." Bakura offered, doing Marik one better, pulling the blonde's towel off entirely and giving it a discarding toss into the hall.

Marik grinned. "I like when you talk dirty." he said, laying his hands on Bakura's hips, playing with the edge of his towel.

"That's because you're a sinful voyeur." Bakura whispered back, grinding against the Egyptian through the towel.

Marik chuckled. "Dirty dirty dirty." he murmured against Bakura's lips, who grinned back, only too willing to occupy those lips with better things than words. Deeming conversation an insufficient reason to part his lips from Bakura's, Marik pulled off the thief's towel, tossing it aside without another word, pushing Bakura back into the bedroom.

Marik swung an arm out, closing the door behind them, the breeze he'd created making the tiny flames of the nearest candles dance wildly around them. Bakura didn't know exactly what Marik intended to do but he was determined not to think about it. He would _feel_ this and nothing else. It didn't need to be analyzed.

Marik guided Bakura back until the thief's legs hit the bed and Marik continued, following him down. When he pulled back for air, the Egyptian looked down at the sight that lay below him; Bakura with his snow-white hair splayed out slightly around his head, lips swollen slightly from excess attention they had never known before, smooth chest rising and falling, slowing as he regained lost breath. "Gods you're beautiful." He couldn't help it. Bakura was…so striking like that, so attractive.

This time Bakura said nothing of it. If Marik wanted to call him beautiful he was going to do it no matter how uncomfortable it made him. As long as he didn't start coming up with silly little pet names, Bakura figured he could deal.

Marik leaned back in and Bakura's lips parted for him, making him feel sincerely stupid when Marik bypassed his lips entirely to kiss a trail along his jaw line. Marik's unique blend of small kisses, nips, and licks continued on to his throat. Vaguely, somewhere in the back of his mind, Bakura was aware that this exactly was the very reason he had been nervous about sexual acts to begin with; Marik's tongue and teeth at his throat, seeking out his pulse, pressing against it, and following the tendons beneath the surface, but now, drowning in the actual feeling, Bakura could not bring himself to be wary.

Marik carried on, dragging his tongue across Bakura's shoulder where he bit down gently before moving back slightly to give himself better access to Bakura's chest where he took one nipple between his teeth and the other between his thumb and finger, rolling it until Bakura found himself arching into the touch.

"Harder." he managed and Marik obliged, pulling back with his teeth making Bakura moan and bury his fingers in Marik's hair.

When Marik was satisfied, he switched to Bakura's left, slowly rubbing the abused nub he'd abandoned with one hand, while the other trailed it's way down Bakura's side to cup his ass harshly, jerking a surprised noise from the back of Bakura's throat that made him chuckle.

Abandoning Bakura's chest, Marik scooted back again until only one knee was actually still on the bed as he trailed kisses down Bakura's torso, finally dipping his tongue in his lover's navel. Bakura looked down at him, wondering just what the _hell_ he was doing until the feeling finally sent tremors across his stomach and he dropped his head back down to the mattress.

Marik slid one hand down the back of Bakura's leg, raising it over his shoulder as he knelt down beside the bed, pressing the tip of his tongue into the slit at the head of Bakura's half-hardened member. Bakura gripped the comforter beneath him since he could no longer reach Marik without sitting. Marik grinned as he dragged his tongue along the underside of Bakura's shaft, taking pride in the way Bakura hardened at his touch.

Using his hand to pump Bakura with torturously slow, firm motions, Marik drew Bakura's sac into his mouth, putting some movement into it to match his hand when he heard Bakura groan in appreciation.

Marik's dark lilac eyes glinted mischievously as he thought of Bakura's reaction to his next advance. He was bound to have a fit. Marik's grin spread into something that would have made the Cheshire cat proud as he released Bakura's sac to push the tip of his tongue past the tight ring of muscle at Bakura's entrance without warning.

Bakura jerked, bolting up only to be shoved back down by a hand at his stomach. "What the _hell are you doing?!_" Bakura screeched but meanwhile Marik's tongue was flicking in and out of the tight heat he'd so abruptly invaded, throwing Bakura into a chaos of conflicting feelings. As Marik's tongue invaded him deeper, Bakura was torn between the confusingly incredible sensation and the embarrassing knowledge of what exactly it was that Marik was _doing_. "Stop it." he said weakly, not even sure himself if he meant it, but stop Marik did and Bakura almost yelled at him not to listen to _everything_ he said.

Marik had already moved though, pumping Bakura a few more times for good measure before crawling back onto the bed to kiss Bakura who had serious fleeting second-thoughts about kissing him after… But it was probably already too late, he realized, as his tongue was sliding across Marik's in his mouth.

"One of those things…" Marik murmured against his ear, between sucking on it, "we'll have to negotiate on." Bakura blushed heatedly. Marik moved to the side to give Bakura space to move and said with a smug smile, "Do you want to finish getting in bed?"

Bakura eyed him as he sat up and scooted back so that his legs were on the bed.

"Lay back." Marik instructed softly and Bakura did, holding his gaze the entire time. Marik moved forward again, straddling him, and kissed the thief heatedly. "I've got to prepare you." he said against Bakura's lips and moved back, sticking two fingers in his mouth in a very erotic gesture as he visibly swirled his tongue around them.

Bakura wasn't sure he liked that idea.

"Forget it." he stated harshly. "I'm not going to fucking break. Just fuck me. I've waited long enough."

Marik pulled the fingers from his mouth. "No Bakura." And Marik's tone left no room for argument. With those two words he made it clear that it would be done this way or not at all, that Marik had that much control over himself and he was as stubborn as a mule. He would go jack off in the bathroom before he gave in. "You associate everything else in your life with pain." he went on firmly. "I won't let you do that to this. I love you. Those aren't just words. I won't cause you any more pain. Never again." In Marik's eyes was a haunted look and Bakura gave in. He couldn't find the words, saying he had been wrong had always been a weak area with him, so he spread his legs just a fraction further as consent and Marik understood, placing a hand on his leg and smiling. "It's uncomfortable at first." he said. "But it gets better." And Marik slipped the first finger in, working it slowly past Bakura's entrance, moving it slightly inside him before pulling it out and pushing it back, repeating the motion in rhythm.

Bakura winced at first. It was uncomfortable, but the more Marik moved his finger in and out, creating a warm and pleasant friction against the sensitive inner walls, the better it started to feel. Bakura wanted to tell Marik to go faster, to increase the friction, but he held his tongue, letting Marik set his own pace. Soon, a second finger was added and Marik began to stretch them apart inside him to loosen his muscles. Bakura moaned, trying not to move against those fingers. They left him wanting more and he realized that what he really wanted was Marik, he just didn't want to rush Marik for fear he'd sound like a slut when what came out was more along the lines of 'Can't you fuck me _now??_', or god forbid, '_Please_ Marik, take me, I _need_ it.' instead of 'I'm good. You can go ahead now.' Bakura firmly kept his mouth shut.

"I've done this once before." Marik said, startling Bakura from his thoughts, slightly. Bakura glanced down at Marik to find the Egyptian regarding him carefully, trying to gauge a reaction. "With Malik." he elaborated, his fingers stilling momentarily. "…Call it experimenting." he added with a grin. "I just…thought you should know." the grin faded as he waited for Bakura's response.

Bakura did not hesitate long and made no reply, he simply nodded in affirmation that he understood. Marik reached up and kissed him and when Bakura kissed back passionately, gripping his shoulder with one hand, Marik's fingers continued their rhythm, a third slipping in, pulling another moan from Bakura as he arched off the bed, unintentionally seeking more contact, deeper penetration.

"Here." Marik said, removing his fingers to hand Bakura the bottle from the dresser. Bakura took the item uncertainly. What did Marik want him to do with _this_? Marik moved to the head of the bed, sitting so that his back rested against a stack of pillows at the headboard. Bakura sat up, biting back a groan as he did so, and turned so that he faced Marik. "Slick me up." Marik said in answer to Bakura's questioning look.

No, Bakura did not like that idea at all. He had already accepted the idea of being taken on his back, where he could at least see Marik working at it above him. He wasn't sure he wanted to change the plan now.

"Kura?" Marik asked, concerned by his hesitation.

"Why like this?" Bakura asked, toying with the bottle's cap with one thumb and trying to ignore the aching, vacant feeling between his legs.

"It gives you more control this way." Marik answered. "And I get to see you work for it in my lap."

Marik's grin instantly ignited Bakura's anger and his eyes blazed as he growled at the Egyptian.

"I'll work for it in yours later if you want." Marik added provocatively.

Bakura felt his anger melt into mild disgust and he twisted the cap violently, hurling it across the room. "You're lucky I'm so fucking high." he spit out, pouring the bottle's contents into his palm and returning the item to the night stand.

"I'm not sure that's quite what you meant, but…ahhh!" Marik completely lost the sentence, throwing his head back as Bakura roughly grabbed his erection with both hands and grinned evilly."

"It's what I meant."

Marik groaned as Bakura pumped him, spreading the lubricant in the process.

"You make me … fucking … high." Bakura ground out, thrusting his hands down and up to punctuate his statement.

Marik wasn't sure if it was Bakura's motions or his words that were overwhelming him; maybe it was a combination of both that had him writhing beneath Bakura's hands, bucking his hips into the tight grip. Reaching forward, he grabbed the white-haired thief by the upper arm, pulling him closer and smashed their lips together in a bruising kiss, ravaging the heated cavern Bakura opened to him in hunger. Marik's hands came to rest on Bakura's hips and firmly, he pulled the other forward until Bakura had to rise to his knees, hovering over Marik's erection.

The hands at Bakura's hips slid to his ass, spreading his cheeks and he knew what was coming. Marik guided him down and he lowered himself until he could feel the head of Marik's shaft pressing against his entrance. One small movement and the tip slid in without much resistance. Bakura's eyes widened as he pulled back from their kiss.

Marik said nothing, no encouraging words of comfort, no cocky remarks. Letting his head fall back, Marik allowed the indescribable sensation of their position to drive him to the edge of his sanity where colors began to fade and feeling explode. It took everything he had to keep enough of himself in that moment not to jerk his hips upward and impale Bakura completely. His hands remained where he'd put them, waiting for Bakura to adjust and continue his descent, both cursing and savoring the torturously slow advance.

Bakura braced himself against Marik, laying his palms flat against the Egyptian's tanned chest and slid down a little, seeking that feeling of fullness that Marik's fingers had deprived him of. It was amazing, like no other sensation he had ever felt before. Arching his back in the heat of the moment, Bakura let himself come down, burying Marik to the hilt within him…and immediately regretted it. Eyes flying open, Bakura gasped in pain as he felt Marik's erection penetrate deeper than he had anticipated, too far…

Marik echoed his gasp in pleasure, his fingers curling around Bakura's ass, gripping him, grounding him, and this time his hips jerked of their own accord, pulling another strangled gasp from Bakura as the thief fell against Marik's chest, eyes clamped shut as he tried to level his erratic breathing.

"Fuck." Bakura whispered, his breathless tone clearing the fog in Marik's mind as he regarded his first time lover.

Marik threaded the fingers of one hand in Bakura's hair, the other hand coming up to stroke his back soothingly. "Take your time." he said quietly near Bakura's ear. "Moving will take the pain away." he added a moment later.

Bakura knew. He'd done something wrong, moved too fast. He was thankful that Marik had refused to take him dry. Pain…down _there_…seemed to be a lot less manageable than lacerations or bruises, he found it harder to will it away or ignore it. It wasn't as bad as it could have been and it was easing with every passing second, revealing another feeling beneath, a kind of deep pleasure that seemed to fuse with the pain, making even that pleasurable as it ebbed.

An anxious, unsettled feeling welled in the pit of his stomach, urging him to move. Bakura gripped Marik's shoulders to steady himself as he slowly rose, letting out a lungful of air as he did so, until just the head of Marik's shaft remained before sliding back down, hissing at the pleasurable sense of fulfillment and the resulting relief. Repeating the motion, Bakura found it much easier the second time and the third.

Marik returned his hands to Bakura's hips, holding him firmly and rolling his own hips upward making Bakura moan. Marik smiled and helped guide Bakura into a rhythm until they were moving together fluidly, Bakura panting above him as he moved in sync, the pace steadily increasing.

Bakura in the throws of passion, building a fine sheen of sweat against pale skin, hair tousled and hanging over his shoulders, plastered to his forehead, mouth open, fingers digging into his shoulders to support his rigorous movements, was an erotic image that Marik burned into his memory, an image he knew he would never tire of seeing.

Reaching forward, Marik gripped Bakura's leaking erection, pumping him with a jerk that matched their rhythm and tore a cry from Bakura's throat that nearly sent Marik over the edge.

"Ma…Marik…" Bakura growled lustfully and finally Marik struck the bundle of nerves inside. Bakura screamed, coming forcefully in Marik's hand and Marik increased the speed of his thrusts, slamming into the thief until he too cried out, arching his back as he filled Bakura and Bakura collapsed against his chest, exhausted.

Marik embraced his lover, rolling his hips with a groan and sliding out of Bakura. Bakura made an indiscernible noise at the loss and tried to move, so as not to crush him, but Marik only tightened his grip, holding Bakura where he was. Bakura didn't struggle. He let Marik hold him and closed his eyes contentedly.

"I love you Bakura." Marik said, his voice quiet in the stillness surrounding them.

Marik watched as a small, genuine smile materialized on Bakura's lips. "Yea…" he conceded, tranquilly, lips moving slightly against Marik's chest. "…me too…"

Marik gave Bakura a lopsided grin that the thief didn't notice and joked back "You love you too?"

Bakura brought a fist down on Marik's chest, though it was lacking the fire that might normally have accompanied such an action. "I love _you_ jackass." he said turning Marik's grin into a genuine smile as he brought his hand to Bakura's hair, settling his fingers down into the slightly damp mass of white.

Marik was wrong about his twenty minute prediction, they only made it fifteen, and Marik won their negotiations concerning putting fingers in certain places where the sun don't shine, he also talked Bakura into a brief bout with a vibrator. Bakura drew the line however, at the cock ring Marik had brought along in his bottomless paper bag. He did let Marik's 'try everything once' speech get to him at first but the thing ended up pissing him off so much that he ended up hurling it out the window…the closed window, followed in it's trajectory by a string of colorful curse words in three different languages…never to be seen again. Bakura had a very low tolerance for not getting what he wanted…the second that he wanted it. Marik didn't miss the item. It had been pre-Bakura and had lost it's purpose as far as he was concerned.

Needless to say, when Malik and Ryou showed up in the morning, neither one of them heard the knock on the front door, or the preceding phone call to see if it was safe to come home, _or_ the slight probe on their mind links to check if they were awake yet. Bakura was sprawled on his stomach with Marik draped over him in a half-embrace laying among the rumpled sheets, the bed surrounded by burned-out candles and one empty bottle, tipped over on the nightstand, half on the surface and half off of it. And on both of their faces were the contented smiles of two lovers, sated, and comfortable, soaking in each other's warmth in a state of peace that neither had ever known before.

To be continued.

--

Post whatevers: On to the finale! If you liked, please review.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! is the intellectual property of Kazuki Takahashi

Author's Note: And finally - the end.

* * *

**What Is Love?**

Afterward

_--_

_Needless to say, when Malik and Ryou showed up in the morning, neither one of them heard the knock on the front door, or the preceding phone call to see if it was safe to come home, or the slight probe on their mind links to check if they were awake yet. Bakura was sprawled on his stomach with Marik draped over him in a half-embrace laying among the rumpled sheets, the bed surrounded by burned-out candles and one empty bottle, tipped over on the nightstand, half on the surface and half off of it. And on both of their faces were the contented smiles of two lovers, sated, and comfortable, soaking in each other's warmth in a state of peace that neither had ever known before._

_--_

Ryou slowly eased open the front door of his house, calling inside and only when he received no reply did he step in, leaving the door open for Malik behind him.

"Think they're still here?" Malik asked.

Ryou was about to concede that it was possible they might have left…but at just that moment his eyes fell on the articles of clothing nearby and his eyebrows hiked to his hairline. "No, I'm pretty sure they're still here." he answered quickly, looking elsewhere. He was afraid to look on the couch. They _were _in Bakura's bedroom, right? Without their clothes…

Malik sighed exaggeratedly as he caught sight of the clothes on the floor and stooped to gather Marik's clothes. "Come on." he said, exasperatedly. "Better take these to them, unless you want Marik streaking through your house while you're here."

For some reason, that last part made Ryou twitch.

Ryou gathered Bakura's clothes and followed Malik up the staircase. "Maybe we should just leave." he tried. "We don't really need to…" But it was too late, without any warning at all, Malik threw open Bakura's bedroom door and tossed the clothes on the floor inside, turning to go without pausing to converse with the two yamis. Ryou laid Bakura's clothes on the floor next to Marik's and bit his lip, about to follow Malik out when he saw Bakura slide one eye open.

Ryou hesitated. "So…how'd it go last night?" he asked awkwardly, voice muted as he didn't know if Marik was awake or not.

"Good." Bakura answered tiredly.

"So did you…"

"Yes, yes, yes, and … probably." Bakura answered, closing his eyes once more.

"Probably?"

"Ryou, I can't count that high this early in the morning."

Ryou's eyes widened but he said nothing of it, instead he said "Oh, well…um…I'll make you an early lunch if you want it. I just needed a change of clothes…but we'll have a bite to eat if you're getting up…"

Marik tightened his hold on Bakura, pulling him closer until his ear was within nuzzling distance and said "You have such a sweet hikari. I wish mine was nice like that." he pouted.

"I heard that!" Malik called from somewhere else in the house, startling both Bakura and Ryou, and Marik snickered.

"Malik says I can find my own food or _starve_."

"**Shut up!**" came the call from downstairs and Ryou turned toward the hallway, trying to figure out how he could possibly have heard Marik only to realize that Marik had probably opened their link so he could.

"Ok….so, I'll make lunch then…" Ryou said, almost to himself, moving to leave.

"Thank you." Marik said, causing Ryou to pause, turning to smile back at the Egyptian.

"It's no problem."

"_Quit sucking up!_" Malik shouted and Marik grinned.

--

Bakura followed the smells of Ryou's cooking to the kitchen, rubbing at his wet hair with a towel and ignoring Marik who was trying to walk next to him and play with his hair at the same time. Eventually, he swatted Marik's hand away, putting the towel down as they entered the kitchen.

Ryou was at the stove, stirring something in a pot and Malik was leaning against the counter next to him. Marik hopped up on the counter next to his other and looked over at what Ryou was cooking. "Smells good." he said approvingly.

Ryou smiled. "Thank you."

Malik frowned. "Get your _butt_ off Ryou's counter." He ordered, giving his yami a harsh, disapproving look and poked his thigh for good measure.

"I'm not bothering Ryou." Marik countered, squirming a little on the hard surface.

"It's impolite." Malik argued back, removing himself from the counter entirely to face his yami. "You don't just park your ass on other people's kitchen counters."

Bakura tuned them out, moving to Ryou's other side. "So how did _your_ night go?"

Ryou blushed. "Good." he answered shyly, staring at the spoon he was holding. "The concert was good and Malik and I had a good time."

"There's too many 'goods' in that sentence." Marik observed with a grin, interrupting both their conversation and his own. "Malik…" he added, his tone just screaming dirty thoughts "what did you do?"

Malik turned red. "I didn't do anything." he answered defensively. "We didn't do anything, ok, not that it's any of your business."

"I jumped him." Ryou said softly. "I think I might have been feeling a little bit of… Your emotions might have leaked across a little." His blush deepened as he flicked his eyes in Bakura's direction.

Bakura's eyes widened as he stared back at his hikari. Marik burst out laughing and slapped Malik's shoulder. "Were you molested?" he snickered.

"I'll have you know that people would _pay _be molested by Ryou and it was the best night of my whole fucking life!" Malik shouted back, embarrassing Ryou further but…also flattering him.

"How far did you go?" Marik asked, interested.

"Did you two…?" Bakura echoed.

"No!" Malik shouted back. "You think I would take advantage of him like that?!"

"We just…made out." Ryou added.

"What about _you_ Marik? Care to tell us what _you _did last night?" Malik returned.

Marik took a breath. "Well, I…"

"Never mind." Malik interrupted, holding up a hand to silence his other, knowing he was about to get every heated detail. "Heat of the moment, sorry."

Marik pouted and Bakura rolled his eyes.

Ryou smiled as he remembered the event in question. "He kissed me and when I kissed him back I threw him against the wall and tore off his shirt." Ryou's smile widened happily. "I totally _snogged_ him." Ryou snickered and Marik's grin widened.

"As long as we're sharing stories…" Marik started but Malik interrupted him again, patting his leg as he spoke.

"No, that's alright. We're good."

Marik gave Malik a dirty look but let it drop.

"Lunch is ready." Ryou said, changing the subject as he took his pot off the stove and Marik hopped back to the floor, his disdain forgotten as he took a seat at the table.

Marik grinned to himself as he watched Bakura take his seat and receive his bowl of food, giving Ryou the smallest of appreciative smiles. Bakura was powerful and wild and beautiful. He never really cooked and Marik doubted he even could. He smelled like the soap he used and the shampoo and a little of the incense that reminded Marik of last night because it had gotten into his clothes. He tasted nice too. He made Marik feel like he needed nothing more to live happily the rest of his life. Bakura made him feel as though his destiny was not consumed in darkness.

Bakura looked up to see Marik staring at him, smiling, and gave the other a rare smile (rare now, rather than non-existent). Marik blinked back, only realizing a fraction of a second after Bakura had looked away, back to his food and the others present, that Bakura's general reaction might have been to demand what he was staring at rather than returning his gesture and Marik felt blessed. He felt…_whole_.

--

Incidentally, Marik did find that cock ring two weeks later, around the wrist of a neighboring four year old who had painted over it in pink nail polish and glitter. He let her keep it.

The End

* * *

Post whatevers: Cookies to anyone who knows where the quotes I used as chapter titles came from. ...I wish I had cookies whine ... I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed and apologize for any errors that you might have found in all this - like the lack of page breaks and paragraph indentations that the site robbed me of. I'm sure I had something else to say but, of course, I won't remember until five minutes after it's too late.

As always, if you liked, please review. Ja!


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